Reparation
by Reyavie
Summary: Alternate universe; Urthemiel was slain in Denerim during the fifth Blight. Razikale in the Free Marches during the sixth. But now that those are only legends, who remembers enough to slain the last? Every cycle must return to its beginning.
1. Between Flames and Blades

**Disclaimer**: I own absolutely and completely nothing. Bioware has that particular pleasure.

**Author's note:** For whatever reason, a very dumb plot bunny chose to make itself known. And I started this. To be warned, this is an **AU universe**, it will make little sense at first but I am hoping that, while it progresses, people will find interesting. I am trying for something a little different so. Opinions and patience, I will try to make this somewhat decent. It will be multi-chaptered.

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><p>xxxXXXxxx<strong><br>**

**rep-a-ra-tion** . the making of amends for wrong or injury done; _reparation for an injustice_

xxxXXXxxx

None of them could say for how long they had been running. At times, it seemed as if they had been born that way, constantly looking over their shoulder for trouble. It was instinctual. It saved their lives. Always in small packs, always keeping one step ahead of their pursuers. They had been twelve in the beginning. Now, it was just them, running, always running even through her legs seemed ready to fall apart at any moment.

"We can't stop, Kate." Her companion's hand gripped for hers in the darkness, fumbling a little until he was effectively pulling her along the grassy path, the rocks, the trees, in between everything that could serve as an obstacle. "The more we run, the more distance we'll get between us and them. Just a little more. Okay?"

She had no idea how he still had breath left in his body to reassure her. Maker, it was going to be this time. This time they were caught. The fear gnawed more than any darkness, wounded more than she thought possible after all that time. It made her legs' complaint turn into a mutter. His hand. She held it tighter and kept running. They could do this. They could.

"Just a little more," he repeated to the path ahead. "Just a little more and we'll be safe."

A shame she had no breath left. A shame the darkness around them was so tight, so heavy that it constricted her words and kept them unsaid. Otherwise she would have told him that the Maker was quite obviously not interested in them. Not in two little elves, not in the fact that the second they slowed down, they would die. The Maker didn't care.

No one knew exactly how or when it had started. Legends told that their kind had once been strong, immortal. The sort of thing the stories are supposed to be made of. Great heroes and strong warriors, the kind that draws envy. They also spoke about how their first land had been destroyed and their kind enslaved. Then freed. Then a second home broken to the ground and they had been reduced to the scraps of society. It hadn't been so bad back then, that was what they were now told and Kate believed.

Then all had gone to the Fade, almost literally. Slowly, their kind was degraded, their few rights taken away. Then the slavery had returned. And the reservations, Maker, how the word was enough to make her want to throw up. A prison, that was all it was, a prison with a glorified name in the worst possible hovels of Ferelden. First the mages in their Circles. Then the elves. Then even the dwarves had disappeared into their tunnels, disgusted at the presumption of the humans. Kate often wished her kind had been smart enough to do the same. What else did they have now? Always on the run, always with the specter of fear as companion. Their ancestors had been _stupid_.

A hole in the ground stole her attention again back to where it mattered. Run, they couldn't stop running.

"Sam," she tried calling but he didn't pay attention. His eyes turned from one side to the other as if could really discern into the darkness, his little wisp of magic floating loyally around his head.

"Just a few more moments," he repeated as if speaking it out loud would make it come true. "I know there's a river nearby. We can."

Maker, she wished she had his bravery. Struggling to keep with his steps, her fingers tightened around his hand. He would suffer much more if he was caught. He was two of humanity's hatred, she was just one. Though part of his fear was mostly for her. Her, a woman. Most humans didn't care that the woman form had knife ears as long as they had their fun. The stories were never-ending .

"There. We can hide there."

The wisp moved to illuminate his pleased face, making his red hair shine like pure fire, the light eyes which were always stronger than anything she had ever known. She knew that, without Sam, she would have died a long time before. Or given up, closed away in one of the reservations which was little better. "Kate?" His hand tugged on hers lightly for attention. "Look." She did.

The place they had stumbled into was near a river, the sound alone enough to speak of a strong current, even more darkened than any surroundings due to the taller trees dipping from both sides. The rocky sides made any passage even more complicated than the water ever would. But Sam didn't seem interested in crossing. Instead he pointed to the side, to a small cavern she wouldn't have noticed without his gesture.

It was small. It was somewhat secure. They could rest.

"Come on," he continued, pushing her along once again. "Just a."

"Little more?" The girl completed in a breathless whisper. How could he still manage to speak at all? "We need to find you a dictionary next time we're in town. Maker."

His snicker was a faint victory. Soon enough, they fell back into silence, waiting until they were safely inside the refuge to dare any noise. And the rest came, yet again, by instinct. Sam stayed by the entrance, checking the immediate surroundings, casting glyphs to warn them of any assailants, a few more to keep any immobilized in case they did come. The girl protected him. Cautiously, she followed every rocky wall to its end, touching with her hands for any exit, any way out or in. None. In a way, it was a good thing. They couldn't be surprised. And in the other way, continued logic, they wouldn't have any place to run in case of attack. Kate pressed her lips together, fingering the moss right at the end of the cave. It wasn't bad. It would be safer than any tree outside. They had both slept in much worse places than this. They hadn't been just two then though.

Shaking her head to get rid of useless thoughts, she moved back to where Sam was still casting away. His mana would be low already due to exhaustion and, as always, it was up to her to do the little things. Taking out her pack which Maker knew how it hadn't lost, she proceeded to light a small fire, enough to warm the both of them. Then the deep mushrooms, the food of the poor and the aimlessly lost in the forest, a bottle of water they hadn't lost in the last scuffle. At the end, so small that it was a wonder how she still had it, Kate pulled out a piece of chocolate, joining it to his sparse portion of food.

"Ah, there we go." The wisp complained a little at the entrance before vanishing into thin air, announcing her companion's entrance.

Sam was a small man, like any other elf. A little taller, maybe, pale skin of someone who spent his time indoors – or more in the darkness than sunlight. Brown eyes and bushy red hair that grew everywhere since they weren't exactly overcome with hairdressers to keep it tamed. His clothes had also seen better days. Kate knew he had a pair of robes stuck into that pack of his but Fade would eat him alive before he used them. There was little more that screamed mage as robes and cowls. And she wouldn't go into a staff. His had long before been broken and turned into wood when necessary.

And she wasn't that much better. Her leathers were mismatched, fit for men but sturdy enough to last a couple more months if they weren't caught in any scuffles. A hand reached out to touch her hair. Greasy, Kate noticed with a grimace. Lovely. This meant the black tresses would be looking like someone had spat on her. More tanned than him, smaller, stronger, as the rogues of old were supposed to be and she mimicked.

"I didn't know you still had this." Sam had found the chocolate and was watching it between careful fingers like it was some miracle. "How come you didn't eat it after we finished the cereal bars? It would have helped."

She answered by sticking a piece of mushroom in her mouth, half burned by the fire and all. "Sam?"

"Yes?"

"Shut it and eat it."

It would be useless to argue. He was stubborn, she was the same but neither lacked common sense. If she needed strength to keep running, he needed it more to keep the glyphs outside active throughout the night. There would be no argument between them because it had already been done a dozen, a thousand times before ever since they had first met.

Kate had been a city brat. One of those born to the servants of the rich, one of those scavenging in the dark alleys while the parents walked back and forth at others' whims. Lucky, in a way. City people had it slightly better considering the masters they were assigned too. And there were beautiful things in the cities. Her own, Denerim, had been a bustle of activity, buildings as tall as the sky itself which seemed to have been built by a God's hands and not by man's arts. Sam hadn't been that lucky. Being an elf in a small village was bad enough but being an elven mage? His parents had thrown him into the streets as soon as he could find food by himself and take shelter were possible. There was more to the story, she knew, but there was more to hers too. Like how she had found herself running through the streets. He didn't ask about it, she didn't either.

"Come here, you idiot. You'll freeze half to death."

Sam opened the half destroyed jacket and patted the place by his side. It was enough invitation. Without a word, Kate ignored her screaming legs and crawled to his side, burrowing against his chest like it more of a shelter than the cave itself. Warm too.

"Think we can stay here a couple of days?" She asked distractedly, nipping at the mushrooms. Because that would definitely make her meager cooking skills seem any better.

Silence. That'd be a no. Years with him had taught the woman well. There were times in which bad things didn't need to be said.

"If we stay more than a night, they'll catch up. Maria told me the Templars had caught my trail. You know how they are. With our luck, they got the blood from the last camp. They can be on their way."

"Maker above, you're pessimistic." Kate dug one pointy nail against his ribs, eyes lost in the small flames. "I bled all over the place too. How will they be able to distinguish red from red? With attention?"

"They have their ways."

Maybe they had asked Maria, Kate read in between the lines. Maybe they caught some of the others and they spoke of us. Maybe, maybe, so many maybes, so many ways to be betrayed. It wouldn't be the first time a captured elf spoke of others. Or a captured mage. The Circle should be an awful place if they were willing to sell anyone just to avoid going there. This was better. Just him, just her. He kept her going, she kept him safe.

"Stop worrying, will you?" His fingers trailed down her disgusting hair, caring little for the grime and dust. "Eat, Try to sleep. Tomorrow we can decide where to go. How would you like the mountains?"

Any place where the city folk hadn't gone would be good. Kate wasn't feeling like being picky.

"Orzammar still has its gates," he continued when she failed to answer. "It's not a bad idea."

Or so it was said. It was also said that elves were drawn there with the premise of a haven and ended up caught right at those gates. And that the dwarves simply didn't care. It was an awful idea. He, optimistic. She, the dark cloud. No, it was too tiring to even try to dampen his hopes.

"We can turn north in the morning," she declared, choosing to play along for the moment. "Last case scenario, we keep going north to the Free Marches. Maybe beyond?" Beyond would be Tevinter and that would be good for him. He could become a Magister and she his slave? Would be slave. Whatever would keep them together and safe. "We will see in the morning."

"Sounds good." And he so sounded tired. One of her arms slipped around his waist, pulling him closer, as comfortable as possible. "In the morning. We can plan. Clean up."

"Stop talking."

"Stop talking would be good too." Definitely tired.

She scoffed against his chest, a little shake of her head underlining the words. "I mean it, idiot. Go to sleep. I'll keep watch for a little while more."

Sam had no reply for her. Instead, he shifted again to lie against the wall and encircled her with his arms, keeping her warm and almost safe. Almost if not quite. In any other night, he would have complained about her order. Said that he was fine, that he could take shift, that she could sleep longer. They had run too long though. And while she couldn't take another step without wishing to pass out, her eyes remained open for much longer than it took for his breathing to ease into a light sleep.

She, who had stopped believing in the Maker a long time before if she ever had, found herself asking for just one night without commotion. One night of rest. Otherwise, they wouldn't make it.

"Good thing I'm not a mage, Sam," she whispered into the empty cave. "Otherwise, we would be constantly followed by storms and heavy clouds. And rain. Thunderclouds. Ominous and scary things."

"Kallian. Stop talking."

She stopped.

xxxXXXxxx

The first sign of alarm came little after dawn. True to his habits, Sam would have been awake and moving as the sun went up. Unfortunately, the last days had been a confusion of fast escapes and worry, enough to sap him of most energy. When the first glyph went off, he was still deep within his dreams, lost in the Fade where everything seemed clearer and enticing. When the second froze whoever had touched it, Sam was already pushing himself forcibly from his personal heaven, shaking her awake before he could focus.

It was a credit to their time on the run that Kate didn't jump in her place. Instead, she forced her eyes open and moved without noise, reaching for her backpack and then the meager utensils they still carried.

"What is it?" She whispered once everything was at her back. "Templars? Humans?"

His eyes narrowed, little lines wrinkling his forehead as he seemed to focus on the feeling given by the energy outside. It was taking longer than usual too. On regular days, Sam would have already blurted out which without doubt. It was an unknown? Kate remembered crossing Ferelden top to bottom and this had yet to happen. That scared her. It would also scare him.

"I don't know," he whispered, probably deciding it'd be useless to lie. "It feels like something from the Fade? Dirty. Wrong. I can't describe it well. Whatever it is, it doesn't like us."

"Then whatever it is, I vote on moving again." No nonsense, this was something she could do. Amazing what a few hours of sleep could do to a person. Her legs were still hurting but already recovering, tale tell sign that magic had been used at some point during the night, the bloody stupid man. The feeling was probably becoming worse, whatever was struggling against his glyph pushing and pulling at the strands of energy like they were mere ropes to be thrown away. Sam was focusing on keeping them together while waiting for her to clean their traces. She could see while throwing the rests of fireplace around, pieces of charred food in her pockets and earth, as much earth as she could dare covering the dead ashes.

"I don't think it'll care if we clean up or not."

Kate tried not to listen, wasting even more precious minutes to stomp the ground properly and then to grab her dagger with a grimace. Sam couldn't use a staff, she had no proper dagger to fight with. A wonder how they had managed to survive that long. "Done."

Bloody finally. She took the lead, shifting into stealth, trying to keep her movements noiseless, this time her hand reaching for his. Sam was too focused on whatever was on his web, straining to keep whatever it was quiet and still. It became incredibly difficult once they left the cave and saw exactly what he had caught.

"What the hell is _that_?" The mage wouldn't need her comment but she made it anyway.

The thing was tall, tall as a human. Dark skinned, no hair, arms, legs, everything like a regular human. The similarities ended there. Whatever it is, it seemed to be rotten, decayed flesh covered badly by darkened leathers and stains she didn't want to know the origin of. And it bared its teeth against the magic around him like it could actually bite it, struggled like a rabbit in a cage and _Maker_.

During her staring, Sam had blanched like Andraste herself had come to drag him into the Circle.

"We're going," it wasn't a request, it was a plain order. "We're going now. Kate. Start running."

He did, she followed. There wasn't even time to ask what the hell had been that thing. Only that Sam said run and she had very good reasons to listen to the other elf.

"Darkspawn," she heard him mutter confusedly, evading branches and holes in a repetition of the night before. "Darkspawn in the south. Maker, it's like the old stories. And that was a scout, couldn't be anything other than a scout. That means. _Maker_." His concentration had long since shifted into movement and not the magic he had laid behind. Kate noticed it easily when their steps began to be shadowed, when a heavy footfall overpowered theirs. Several. There were several. "Damnit! Don't stop running, Kate!"

Sam sounded afraid. He sounded actually _afraid_. The man who had pulled her out without a complaint when she had been caught. The one who had killed to keep them safe. The one who always kept her going. He was afraid because of that thing and that fear was enough to filter through the air, fill her veins and body.

But she was tired and so was he.

The first creature had freed itself from the trap faster than they had expected. Kate had the barest warning of a growl – an actual _growl_ – before it irrupted behind her, forcing her to let go of Sam's hand and jump to the ground to avoid a serrated blade. The thing was fixated on her. At least this one. Behind it there were already three others, involved in the revealing glow of magic being used. Sam was already casting but she wasted no time to see what. The creature was on her, swinging left and right with painful accuracy. There was a grand total of two seconds to curse her stupidity before she was forced to push herself from the floor, just in time to avoid partially the blade. Partially only as shown by the deep cut on her clothes, a slowly reddening sleeve hanging precariously to the side.

Crouching, Kate allowed the bag to drop and took a steadier hold on her dagger. It seemed human, she thought more analytically than it should be possible when facing a nightmare. If it seemed human, it could die like one. Right. She had killed before, she could. Think later. She could definitely think later. The darkspawn aimed at her flank and she merely twisted out of the way, using her dagger to pierce every opening he gave her. It wasn't working out perfectly. It bled – a dark, almost black kind of blood – but it didn't go down.

"Stop losing time," yelled Sam's voice in the middle of the maelstrom he was summoning. "Go for the kill or we'll die here. More will be coming."

And she did, what else could be done? Slipping into stealth, she slipped and ducked until she was behind the thing, a quick movement of her arm bringing the dagger from one side to the other on its neck. It fell. Like humans. Only this wasn't a human. This was. "Kate!" Something to keep killing. She forced the bile down her throat and raised her eyes to her surroundings. There were four trapped in whatever Sam was casting but there were even more arriving, more than they could handle, her mind added unhelpfully.

Eyes open fiercely as adrenaline pumped through her veins, a response to the warm blood swiping past the open wound, barely covered by tattered fabric. It hurt, it hurt like hell but it was also needed. While she focused on the pain, warm and recurring, a sure sign she wasn't entering in shock just yet, she wouldn't lose herself into something as simple as weariness. It would have to be enough.

Maybe a dozen, it didn't matter to count. It would only make her lose hope. Kate forced herself to remain attentive instead, to jump from side to side as if her arm didn't hurt, as if she wasn't tired and this was just a bad dream while stabbing everything in between.

"Back to back," she yelled over the commotion. "Sam! Come closer!"

It was just ridiculous to keep silent when everyone around them wasn't. She slid amid the blades, amongst the flaying arms and the kicks aimed in every direction with the sheer intention of reaching the man. He was beginning to pale, Maker help them, and there were no potions for him to take, no rest and the darkspawn – whatever the things were to begin with – were relentless.

Her stomach lurched when he was in her grasp. Sam had been hurt just like her but, unlike her small wound, his was a gaping one, his shirt steadily soaking the blood over his ribs. His brow was furrowed deeply, his attention on his attackers and not on himself. The fear turned worse, even worse as her body begged to stop and throw up whatever it kept, even as she slashed and parried, as she kneeled onto the ground to steal one of their weapons, a badly manufactured ugly thing that was rather sharp for its disgusting appearance.

Her shoulder protested when keeping the heavier weapon. Maker. This was it, she thought in despair, eyes running all around and seeing only the things. They were about to die in the middle of nowhere, caught by something she didn't understand and not against what she had run all her life from. The irony should kill her first.

"Sam."

His teeth were gritted together, locked jaw and the tenacity she knew too well.

"Not a word, Kate," he hissed breathlessly. "Just keep slashing. I'll keep." A fireball. Ice, ice spells kept them stopped time enough for him to summon something more powerful.

But they were so many to kill still. One of the creatures slashed at her face and she tasted blood on her lips, dripping on her eyelid, on her cheek and down her shin. Another punched her in the moment after, a hand from nowhere grasping her leg and tugging, trying to separate them, trying to drag her away. Kate knew she had begun yelling at some point. The sword she had found was lost again and so was Sam, leaving her only her dagger and despair, both used against the arm that kept yanking, kept taking her away.

She stabbed it, again and again, her free hand scratching the floor to try and stop their progress into wherever. Then her dagger was gone from her hand and she was left with only hands and nails. Even those she used, breaking, scratches all over her palms and it hurt, _Maker, it hurt _but it still didn't release her. She was going to die. _She was going to die, Maker, Maker help me_.

Then the thing let her go. Just like that. In a moment the pressure on her ankle was like a shackle, wrenching without mercy and afterwards, she was able to scramble back on the harsh floor until she hit something. A chest. Someone. There was no time to grasp her surroundings. Arms had reached to hers and she struggled, a face coming far too close, someone unknown taking the thing's place, normal, a normal face, a _human one_.

It wasn't much better. _Humans_. Humans had caught them.

"Kate!" Sam was screaming, repeating her name from somewhere. She wanted to say run, run away, keep going and don't look back. They could only harm her body, lock her up. They would do worse to him. The one holding her allowed no such thing, clasping his hand over her mouth.

The woman attempted to pull it away, disgust and dread melding together until she was acting more like an animal than an elf, biting and trying to shake the hands pulling at her wrists. It was useless. Through the corner of her eyes, she saw Sam was hammered to the ground with a blow strong enough to break bones and lost consciousness immediately. In front of her, the human company – because it was a company, armed with blades and firearms, metal and plastic uniforms like she had never seen in her life – was killing off the rest of the creatures with an unfailing perfection. There was no hope left for them. It was no wonder she could taste tears mixed in her blood

Kate stopped struggling against her bounds as the so called darkspawn stopped breathing. Why try anymore? She was injured, Sam was unconscious, nothing else could be done.

The silence which followed was nothing short of unnatural.

"Easier than expected."

This group was mostly nondescript to her eyes. She was used to elven men not human. The only humans she had claimed to know had been mages and those were a race apart, frailer in appearance and still stronger than any of these beasts carrying swords. There was one of those in back – how she couldn't pretend to guess – wearing robes and cowl, carrying a staff with him like it was any other weapon. But the man right at the front, that one drew attention. His uniform was the same as everyone else's, a dark blue vest with grey lines to one side, a sword that seemed bigger than she was and a firearm that didn't seem much smaller. Black hair, pale skin, older than her by several years, she'd wager. Humanity's age span wasn't in her field of interest. His eyes were the worst in her opinion though, light, cold as ice itself.

And he was staring at her in something very akin to confusion. For few seconds at most. Then it pushed to the back, covered quickly underneath a cover of impassiveness.

"You, girl."

Reality returned with the strength of a thunderstorm. They were going to interrogate them. It was expected, they always did it to whomever they caught. But Fade, she wouldn't give anyone up. Not Maria who had been stuck in the last city nor Sylvan who had taught her basic moves, nor Angrain, Hugh and Tais, none, none of them. Kate trying swallowing and tasted only dirt.

"Are you the mage or your boy?" The dark-haired continued flatly as if they weren't surrounded by piles of bodies.

She gritted her teeth and tried to straighten her back. Seem more dignified. It failed. "None of us are."

His look was a downright confirmation of her stupidity.

"Oh? Really?" His armor clinked noisily as he knelt down and took one of those darkspawn's limbs in his. Just an arm. A severed arm covered in ice. "Winter came earlier, was it?"

"Ferelden's wilderness isn't that warm." Stupid, stupid, stupid, she shouldn't _talk back_. "It comes without air-conditioning."

Someone punched her, right against the cut over her forehead. Really? Smacking their prisoners? How…_clichéd._ Blood sprouted as the wound reopened, hampering her vision of her inquisitor. If it hadn't, she would have seen the frigid glance which the man threw to his subordinate, the silent order to keep out of this business. Kate didn't and her fear remained the same.

"Right. And this?" It was her dagger. He held her poor dagger, bloodied and half destroyed, stolen from a kitchen of all places when the hunger had been enough to drive them into a village. "This isn't a darkspawn weapon. Too simple. Yours or his?"

Kate remained silent. Stubbornly so. Sam wouldn't speak either if he had been awake.

The man who had slapped her snorted loudly like some sort of overgrown pig. "Does it matter, Commander?" He asked briskly. "Pair of knife ears, uncooperative. We can dump them on the next Chantry and they'll get it sorted out. A knife ear with a _blade_. What's next? One with a gun?"

He would have probably said more but the leader, still kneeling, sent him such a chilling glance that it was a wonder how he didn't apologize immediately for everything he had said, done or thought. "I didn't ask for your opinion." A small piece of her wished to do it for him. One she hid on the back, very deep where her fear was currently trying to make an appearance. "I asked her. Did you two kill these?"

Her lips didn't open. She wasn't going to. She wasn't. He couldn't make her.

The leader shook his head in annoyance but it didn't seem anger. More like the kind of annoyance she had when Sam was being persistent about something. She couldn't be certain – social skills weren't exactly developed in the wilderness – but he didn't seemed to want to kill them. Just there for the reward then?

"It isn't a personal question, girl," he continued, obviously at the brink of his patience. Her dagger was placed in front of her. So close. If she could only get rid of the hands holding her, if only she could. Could what? Stab her way out? How would she drag Sam? "Just tell me. Did you and the boy kill these. Yes or no?"

Perhaps, she thought in sudden hilarity, perhaps killing these things was some sort of crime nowadays. New weapons to capture their kind, it could happen. Humans always had the cruelest ideas to get rid of anything that went against their world. Then again, her greatest crime was being born an elf. Sam's was being a mage. They were both doomed anyway.

Slowly, her head nodded once.

The man seemed pleased.

"You have to be joking." Again, the asshole who beat up tied girls. "You can't be thinking of this, Commander. It would be. Ridiculous."

Another one of those looks. "I don't seem to remember asking you anything, Vaughan," the Commander said in an impossibly calm tone. "In fact, I wasn't the one who ordered you to come. So either shut up or return to the compound. I won't deal with your insubordination more than absolutely necessary."

The human spoke with the confidence of someone who lead others for a living, who could kill people without batting an eyelash. Kate had the impression he could and would do so if the other pushed him far enough. It wouldn't make her shed a tear. In fact, they could and should just kill each other right in front of her.

The black haired one seemed too in control for that though. Instead of playing her little fantasy, he rose from the floor and threw her dagger in front of her.

"Release her," he ordered to whoever was gripping her wrists. "The boy too. They'll be coming with us."

Like _Hell_.

"Look, girl. I don't care that you're an elf." Kate's expression was one of pure and undiluted disbelief. _As if_. Everyone cared that she was an elf. Everyone cared elves ran around free. It was doom upon the world, it seemed. "The only thing I care is that you can fight. Or have a basic of it. Think anyone would manage to get these many down in little time?"

It hadn't been just her. It had been Sam, wide spread spells; he was rather good at those. Fade take her, she wouldn't tell him that. Damnit it all.

"Few would, especially without proper training," he continued, caring little for her reaction. "My job's to end them. Yours will be to kill for me. That's the only thing you need to know."

_He wanted a_. "You want an assassin?" The words escaped her before she could stop them.

When had her hands been freed? When had they grasped her small weapon? _Where was Sam_ and why was she looking at this man instead of running?

"Yes." That sure was blunt. "And no. I need warriors. An elf can kill as well as anyone else. So can a mage. A Blight is coming and I'm not allowing anyone to tell me what can or cannot cut a darkspawn's throat." That would be a barb to the other man, not her. "Consider yourself conscripted, girl. Same with your boy."

Darkspawn. Blight_. Conscripted_. When was someone going to start making sense? Her head was swimming, either due to blood loss or the amount of information, she wasn't sure. Sam would understand but he was still out cold. Maker, he was just knocked out. She could finally turn and see the steady rise and fall of his chest. Thank the Maker.

"I don't get it," again, she spoke involuntarily. "What…?"

One of the man's hands seized hers – rougher than Sam's ever were – and pulled her upwards without requesting permission. She shook it off like it was a serpent.

"You don't have to get it." Not a serpent but a wolf, harsh cold eyes of someone who killed effortlessly and didn't mind it at all. "Only thing you need to know is how to stab fast and obey me. Do that and you live. The rest is inconsequential. Your names, girl?"

Which ones? Sam wasn't Sam, she wasn't Kate, their names were secret, whispered between them to keep whatever they could of their once culture. Kate wasn't about to give that up.

"Tabris," she offered reluctantly. Better than girl and boy like they were dogs he was picking up on his way. "He's Surana."

Again, the Commander stared down at her, pleased with whatever was in his mind, as if a point he had assumed at first had just been proved. He nodded in her direction before turning away. Trusting her to obey.

"I am Warden-Commander Loghain of the Grey. You follow me now."


	2. Doubt, Distrust, Dare

xxxXXXxxx

**dis-trust.** to feel absence of trust in, deem of questionable sufficiency or reality; _to be suspicious of._

xxxXXXxxx

"Don't touch him."

It wasn't the best way to start her presence within. Whatever this group was and yet, Kate didn't need to force her words out. They came willingly.

As soon as she had been freed and the Commander turned away, the woman had scrambled to where Sam had fallen. He was a mess. The previous injury near his stomach was still the worst but a glaring bloodstain had joined it, covering his dirty hair in red. Hiding what was either a concussion or a broken head. Likely both. He still hadn't regained consciousness. Bastards, she thought, old hatred bitter and familiar as the air in her lungs. Hadn't his first injury been enough? No, they always needed to harm others, make themselves feel superior. Kate hesitated before turning their back on them. Moaning and gripping wouldn't get him treated. Fearing these men when they had just helped them – by accident, Kate would bet her life on it – wouldn't it either. Forcing her own aches to the side, the girl knelt by his side and removed the remains of his shirt, using them to clean the blood staining his skin. A large cut, ragged due to a serrated blade. Not vital.

It was when one of the men chose to come closer, reaching out for Sam with unknown purposes. Before Kate could think, she was already screaming. His intentions couldn't be friendly. They never were.

"Was just going to help, miss," the human explained cautiously, hands outstretched between them as a barrier. "He looks bad. I got a couple of potions, we can bandage."

"We," she interrupted. "Aren't going to do a thing. I am going to take care of him." And they wouldn't. What a nerve. First they beat an injured man and then they came with easy soft voices, like they had nothing to do with the blood covering Sam's clothing, with the way he shivered every time her fingers pressed too hard against his injury.

"Awesome. Commander," another unknown voice, lost in the throng of men. "You conscripted a wild cat."

"A cavewoman, most likely."

A round of rough laughter followed those words like a bunch of drunkards outside a club. It would be easy to yell back, to insult all of them. After all, she was one and with much pride. Kate had been raised in the city though and this approximation of an insult was nothing, absolutely nothing compared to that. She shook her head, uncaring of how patronizing that might seem. No. Better to keep her mouth shut for the moment, take care of Sam, one breath a time. Nothing more to it.

Her hands moved quickly in practiced movements, trying to halt the bleeding. His coloring was paler than usual, she noticed with a frown. Infection, maybe, the wound did seem darker than it would be normal.

"Silence."

The Commander drew her attention nevertheless. Her eyes rose momentarily from her work to see how everyone simply fell back into silence like naughty children faced with their father. They all listened to the black-haired one, rebellious or no, even the one who had insulted her first, the one who had suggested a Chantry as their destination. Red faced and angry, gritted teeth and squared jaw but obeyed. That would be one Kate would make sure not to turn her back to. A snake, poisonous and dangerous, Fade if she didn't know the type.

"She will be a sister," Loghain continued in a crude lecture without bothering to look at her. It was probably a good thing. At the word sister, Kate felt like chocking with laughter, call him delusional out loud. Her expression certainly mirrored that wish. "Better keep it mind. So will he. You know the rules."

Kate didn't and no one was inclined to explain the little group of odd clues to the restricted club they seemed to belong to. The uniforms, the blades when most didn't bother with anything as primitive. Who were these people anyway? Maybe Sam would know. He knew about the creatures; he always knew more than her. Apparently just not enough to realize a mage shouldn't play warrior without the get-up.

Ignoring the group, the woman stood from the floor, scavenging through the things' bodies for wherever her bag had been lost. There was little inside of it but they still had a blanket. Cut into pieces, it would be good enough for bandaging. If they gave her enough time, she would be able to light a fire, cauterize the wound. It was easier to move and ignore her own wounds when focusing on his. A little trick. It was probably why she didn't notice the new addition to Sam's vicinity until he was pulling out bandages and small red bottles from wherever.

It was the mage. She very nearly lost it.

"I said I don't need help!" A body made her stumble and crash against the floor, another hampered her ungracious movements when she tried to stand and thankfully kept her attention away from the men's renewed laughter. "Keep away from him! All of you!"

He was a mage. He was persecuted too, Kate should have relied on a possible shared experienced. But her memory saw only how everyone in that company was such an efficient killer in her eyes while she fumbled around with a small dagger. Logic and intelligence took the backstage for distrust. Round ears and wider body, what else was needed to fear?

"Calm down." As if simple words would ever enough. The mage uncorked one of the red bottles and drank a large sip, eyes on hers all the while. Then placed it down, opened one of the bandage kits and rubbed the bandages on uncovered skin. Then the poultices were tried, every paste against his flesh until none would be able to think it was poison. "There you go," he spoke slowly, in a voice that sounded perfect to calm down crazy little children. "It's not dangerous. You can use them to help him. I won't come near."

She couldn't help but feel a little demeaned. Still, he had been intelligent, replying to her fears in the way she wouldn't be able to push away. Slowly, Kate came closer once more, cautious like the wild animal they presumed her as, and took all the items the mage had tried out only to repeat his exact movements. The taste on her tongue was similar to the poultices made on the wilderness, a strong tang of boiled herbs and not the synthetic flavors people added nowadays. The cut on her head began healing slowly. Safe. This was safe.

The mage smiled almost candidly. A kind smile, smooth features, short blond hair falling lightly over his forehead. Innocent looking for someone who had exploded one of the things with a mere gesture. "See?"

Sam chose that moment to begin groaning with an exceptionally good sense of opportunity, avoiding the necessity of a horribly awkward show of gratitude. Taking the medicine, Kate carefully started bandaging each and every scrap, applying poultices liberally in each bandage before tightening. There was no way to make it simple and painless which explained why, every now and then, the elf would grunt and move as if trying to avoid her fingers. Every time he did so, her chest began moving more easily, up and down in steady breaths.

He was alive. He was _alive_. They could insult her the whole time, the woman wouldn't bother listening.

A small cough preceded his actual awakening. First a fringe of a light brown eye, then a movement of his hand, presumably to rest on his ribs. "That hurt."

Kate felt like she could smack him. That and that she could have broken his ribs with a hug right there and then, both impossible in the present company. The elf settled for placing his hand on his shoulder and tightening, containing the urge to grip even harder until he complained, showed that he was indeed alive and protesting.

"We got them?" He tried to open his eyes properly only to close them a second after with a grimace of pain.

How could she tell him that they had only to be captured anyway? Kate stole a glance to the brunt of the group, the ones currently foraging through the bodies like mismatched thieves. A few looked at the pair of elves randomly, the mage close enough, making sure there was no escape route, and the Commander. He paid them no attention, like they were some lost sheep which were following him home.

Or better, he pretended to. For some reason, the girl was certain he was the most aware of their movements, like he was able to stare them both down even if gazing at the opposite side of the field. That was how dangerous he felt to her.

"We're safe," she whispered, lowering her head against his forehead, warm and wrinkled and still sticky from the blood. It didn't seem a complete lie. He breathed; she did too, it could be worse, so much worse. "Everything's fine. Promise."

Sam was out again by the second word. Which was a good thing, she concluded. There was a limit to how much bullshit she could feed him even when half-conscious.

"It's just a concussion," the mage commented, daring to come closer. He still had his staff nearby, as if not caring he was walking with mundanes, people who, in normal situations, would be pointing a gun at his head and forcing him into a place from where few ever left. So at ease. Didn't mean Kate stop herself from moving, her body a makeshift barrier for Sam's body with the metal dagger oddly comforting at her back. He remained smiling. Maker. Nothing short of an outright threat would keep him away, would it?

"Are you done with all the touchy-feely stuff? Some of us have more things to do than standing around watching you to tending to some street rat."

If the barbs didn't stop, they could at least become slightly more interesting. Whore was one of their favorites. Bitch, skank, knife ear, they never managed to say anything original. The predictableness of the whole thing made her smile even as she pushed the blanket to cover her handiwork. They would make it.

"Shut up." Only the mage wasn't as used to them as she was, it seemed. He was looking at the brown haired man who had spoken, the snake, facing him without a hint of fear and a wide trace of loathing. A moment passed in which the two men glared at each other, a moment of unspoken rivalry.

Kate was sure she didn't have a single thing to do with what was going on there. It was all them. Sam and her were a pretext. Still, the tension was palpable, heavy in the air. It had already caught the attention of a couple more men, of the only woman in the group. Everyone else seemed to take this with a grain of salt and ignored it.

"You and your charity cases, Amell."

"No one asked you, Kendells."

They had been caught by idiots. Maker above, it was like watching a pair of wolves fighting merely because. The air around them began to feel even worse, humid, just like the time before a storm. It took the girl a couple of moments to taste the touch of magic against her skin. Wild and untamed, very much unlike Sam's. Whenever he used it, it was analytical, a type of perfection she could only dream of. This was raw anger. If she unfocused her eyes, there was even small sparks on the other's skin. Idiots, very dangerous idiots.

"If I have to tell any of you to shut up and do your work one more time, I will have you all cleaning the gutters when we arrive to the compound. I expect better of anyone under my command." The leader's voice didn't rise above the calm toneless manner he had used earlier but nothing more was necessary. The second he finished speaking, the energy summoned by the blond mage faded into the air like a winter fog. He seemed apologetic. Ashamed, like a little boy caught in wrongdoings by a father, eyes to the ground and back to Sam's prone form.

Maker, in what viper nest she had been thrown into.

"I run a kindergarten," Loghain commented absently. Almost civilly, almost to _her_. "This will repeat itself, ignore it. In the meanwhile, gather your friend. We're leaving."

If he was waiting for a _yes, sir_, Kate would sooner swallow her dagger, blood and all.

"Let me help you," the mage offered. "You haven't tended to your wounds yet. Maybe on the way?"

"No." Nice, he was being nice. Amell. Kate attempted the sketch of a smile – a sadly failed attempt – and shook her head. "No. I'll carry him. I don't need help." Even if he was rather bulky, definitely uninjured and she was lying with every tooth in her mouth.

"But."

"Amell. Let her do what she wants."

The Commander's words sounded like a challenge.

Making sure to give him a rather dirty glance, the small woman shifted Sam's body carefully, directing his arms around her neck, his legs around her waist. It took a while. Even asleep, he muttered randomly, groaned every time she prodded with too much strength. Eventually though, he was on her back and Kate was standing on somewhat firm legs, eyes straight on the Commander's form. _See? I can do it._

Loghain didn't seem inclined to give into her unspoken challenge. Instead he sheathed his sword – Maker above, who used swords those days by _choice_? – and gestured sharply to the group to follow.

"Try not to faint on the way, girl."

Kate took it as yet another challenge, shoulders straightening and arranging Sam's light form more comfortably. Hell if she'd allow them to see her faint. Or carry them. Fade would crash against the mortal world before she allowed that to happen.

She could swear the bastard's lips had turned in the closest approximation to a smirk.

xxxXXXxxx

Ferelden had changed much over the years if one knew where to look. The more important cities such as Denerim and Highever had thrived, grown to the point where it seemed they housed half the population of Ferelden within their borders. Small buildings had turned into sky-scrappers, farmlands into factories, pubs into clubs. It had evolved, for the better and the worst. The rest of the country varied. While Redcliffe was on its way to become the third capital, places like Rainesfere or West Hill were little more than production fields to feed the system. The reservations, those were confined to the south, Haven, Dragon's Peak and their vicinity especially. There was little one could build in a mountain that would remain productive.

While forcing herself to keep walking, it occurred to Kate that they had both been incredibly stupid to travel south. Haven's reservation was the greatest of the country and, if they had continued with their small plan to go north, they would walk right past it. Smart for people who wanted to avoid the place.

They had been moving for two hours, more or less. From the conversations fluttering around her, Kate learned that they had been following that particular group of darkspawn – whatever they were, since no one seemed inclined to explain – for days. The magic they had triggered by the cave had been sensed by the mage and the rest was a matter of following the obvious trail left behind on their escape. The creatures hadn't been exactly discreet and neither had they. All of this she heard without commenting, allowing them to weave their own theories about the two elves while making up her own puzzle.

It lacked two thirds of it, filled with holes her understanding couldn't fill.

"Let me down. I can walk." Sam's voice was mumbled in her ears and a balm to her frazzled nerves. Every now and then he would complain about how she should allow him to do something bar sleeping on her back but those words were, basically, in one ear, out the other. "Are they. Did we get away?"

"Ignore him." Amell walked beside them, staff in hand oddly opposed to the modern looking style of clothing they all wore. He had apparently nominated himself their companion, whether she wished it or not. She couldn't even stumble away because he would just correct his pace to catch up, always between the two and the brunt of the group. Maker knew why. "His mana's down, energy's down, too much blood loss. Wouldn't manage two steps forward. A shame I'm such a horrible healer, no?"

At least he had stopped trying to offer her assistance. Instead, his magic would flicker every now and then in a rejuvenation spell, particularly when her legs faltered and her knees threatened to break apart. Sam could be light after a diet of mainly elfroot and deep mushrooms but, after so long, Kate felt like he weighted a ton. It was pure pigheadedness that made her say no again and again.

The words filtered through her mind slowly, sluggishly as if her body was rejecting them until they finally settled. "His _mana_?" Heavens above, he _knew_.

The blond man studiously avoided the way she stopped in the track, her startled gaze akin to someone ready turn away and begin fleeing. He merely walked forward, staff beating against the floor in stable intervals by his side. "You don't need to worry," he said in all but a whisper. "Haven't told the Commander. You can choose when to tell him."

How about never? He was human. He was a human mundane and they were all the same. Leading them away, uncaring that she didn't want to be there, that she could have been left alone in the forest. Loghain hadn't so much as bothered to look at the two elves since the attack site.

"Come on," Amell persisted. "The compound's ten minutes away. There you'll be able to relax, get your strength back."

Her legs moved involuntarily at that. Which was great, she thought vaguely. They were being rebellious at the thought of a warm bed to pass out on. Warm? Even the cold floor of the cavern they had found just the day before would have been welcomed as the softest place to rest. "Before being shipped off to the nearest Reservation, you mean?" It took a great deal of strength to make those words less harsh than they should be.

He seemed confused at that, Kate noticed somewhat grumpily. What other conclusion would she think of? No one adopted random elves, especially not one who looked like the Fade had just swallowed her whole and then spat her out. This man couldn't be as naïve to think she would just accept them as good Samaritans.

"No, of course not. Didn't you hear the Commander?" Yes and it didn't mean the man had made any kind of sense. Amell gave her a look too akin to pity. "You'll be a sister, Maker willing. So will your friend. A Warden. Being locked up is the last thing you have to worry about."

They spoke of Wardens as if she should know what it meant. As if they were something she should be as acquainted with as with the earth beneath her feet. She was city-born, raised in alleys and aged on paths in what seemed all of Ferelden. The only Wardens she had known kept guard by the jails and the buildings of the rich. There was little way for her to trust those, even if the group looked little alike.

But Kate understood gratitude. It had been what first had bound her and Sam, the fleeing girl and the small mage. _I watch your back, you watch mine_. It was easy to see the Commander owned this man's, deep and unwavering. She wondered briefly what was the cost of his kindness bar the loyalty the mage displayed so easily.

"Is that why you follow him?"

"Yes. No. Probably." A small chuckle escaped him, fingers tapping away at the metal underneath his fingers. "Being a Warden's not exactly easy, miss. But I've been in the Circle. Anything's better than that place. And here, with the Commander? I can do some good instead of wondering when will be the day they'll decide I've outlived my usefulness as a living being and be made tranquil. I am sure your friend will agree with me. And so will you, you will see." A little too much hope in this man. He almost sounded like Sam. It was probably a mage thing. "Ah. There we go. The Compound."

The whole group stopped in unison, clattering loudly as the pieces of armor, everything they had removed from the Darkspawn was thrown to the ground with groans of relief.

What Amell called the Compound was hard to describe to someone who had never stood in front of it. At first, it seemed a jumbled mess of a museum thrown in between army barracks. Statues of Andraste littered the trails between the two, three story high buildings, old columns tossed in between kennels and cars, among armed men who walked back and forth with unknown destination. It was like someone had grabbed an old Tevinter city, surrounded it by stone walls and barbed wire before simply building upon it, without caring for logic and order. The only place which seemed to make sense was the sturdy metal gate that closed the space to outside visitors, a tall cement bunker by its side, ready to welcome whoever entered.

It was hard not to be impressed, if only by its senselessness.

"What in Andraste's name is this place?" Kate asked, staring with blatant confusion. "It seems so."

Amell stopped and leaned against his staff, looking every part a proud parent. "Odd, isn't it?" He commented lightly. "Thought the same when I got here. Wardens have something with not forgetting their history. Makes them awful external decorators but the library? To die for. But, if you would excuse me."

Kate didn't hear the last words or his form walking away. She just continued her appraisal of the odd contraption, checking out each wall, every artwork, the weapons scattered on the walls, the barbed wire outside the stone protections. Maker, everything was so weird to her eyes. A little like a prison, a lot like something out of a story or someone's drunk _insane_ dream.

"Wardens, aren't they?"

A strong hand moved to clasp hers, pull it down so the burden on her back was lessened and then released. And then it was Sam shifting from her, slow breaths through his lips and a burrowed frown but eyes as alert as they hadn't been since he had first fallen. He wobbled in his place for a moment before using her hand to steady himself. Her relief gripped her heart and twisted until she felt again like taking hold of him and refuse to let go.

"So they say." Even her voice sounded a little choked, so ridiculous. "You know what they are?"

A shrug in reply. "A little. Solan left to join them, remember him?" A tall brunette, West Hills. "Preferred that to keep running around and supposedly they do accept anyone, even mages. What did they say to you?" Always analytical, completely impossible to understand when he ran ahead with his thoughts without bothering to remember she was standing right there while he rambled. Kate prodded his back before the fool forgot to explain in smaller words to someone whose mind wasn't nearly as sharp.

"Are they dangerous? And are we really discussing this while you're in that state?"

Brown eyes lowered to his form and then to hers, apparently evaluating their condition. "I look fine." He looked like shit warmed twice over. "Your shoulder needs treatment. But yes, we can continue." If the girl didn't adore him so much, she would have smacked him for that alone. Her body rebelled at that, laughter slipping through her lips at the pathetic joke, shifting so he could place his arm around her shoulders, support for him and comfort for her at the same time. "They can be," Sam replied, catching up to her question. "But more to Darkspawn than our kind. They usually don't care much about politics. Interesting little place."

He also understated things. A lot.

"I am not going to get a decent reply out of you, am I?"

And ignored her questions like few when he wished to distract her. It was nice. Felt like normality. Including the soft grin turning his lips, giving a little more color to his face. "Story time later, I promise. What did they say?"

"That you're conscripted, the both of you." The Commander had, apparently, the ability to show up out of nowhere with barely any warning. Only the fact that Sam was leaning on her and all but pinning her down stopped her from doing something incredibly stupid. Such as go for her absurd dagger; face to that sword of his, it would be pure suicide. Loghain appeared to know what she was thinking, if the tilt of his brow was anything to judge from. His face was sweaty, hair plastered to his forehead and neck, a hint of tiredness, nothing more. The group he lead had already dispersed, Amell disappearing in the vague direction of the gate.

"Right of Conscription." Sam stated slowly. "Thought the Wardens didn't use that anymore. That there were enough recruits anywhere in the south. Why are we here?"

To kill for him. To be tools. The words sounded just as blunt, just as cutting as when the man had first said them.

"Would you prefer the Circle?" The body against her shuddered like a hot iron had been pressed against his back. It was enough to simmer the ashes of her usual revulsion for his kind, to push Sam more securely against her. But Loghain's gaze fell on her next. Harsh as when first meeting them, barely hours before. "Or is it your friend? They wouldn't mind the addition of a primal mage. That is what one of you is. I would wager it isn't you, girl. Mages don't bother with blades."

A normal, regular human. They were all the same. Sam's weight stopped her from moving, from reacting but not from glaring like her displeasure could be fully conveyed that way, when a good strong punch against that raised chin would be far better. "I followed you here. That's as much trust as I'll place in you unless you stop with those threats. Want to throw us in the reservation, fine, do it." He was taller than her by a good while, she noticed, with a wider jaw, stronger features than an elven male. It reminded her of Denerim and that was never a good association. "Just don't hold the Circle above our heads like a coward."

"Tabris."

Soothing, Sam always soothed her, pushed her anger down but she didn't want it at that moment. She wanted this man to stop evading her questions, to stop thinking of them as things to be dragged around like everyone did. To stop staring down at her with that impassive face as if nothing she said was getting through.

"No. I want him to answer you. Why we are here. Not that nonsense about conscriptions and half-statements I'm supposed to get." It was stupid. It was very stupid of her to challenge this man, an unknown factor, a killer. But better dying than torture, better dying doing something than being dragged to the slaughterhouse. "Well. Say it."

It was more than Sam's weight pushing her down. It was the man's scrutiny, the way he didn't move while she shook under strain. He seemed immovable. Like a statue would. He would have been able to stand there much longer than she ever would.

"Wow, Loghain. Back making an impression, are we? Thought we were done scaring off the new recruits before the ominous looking ritual."

Which was why the new voice didn't alarm her.

"And you can both stop trying to kill the other with your eyes?" The voice continued. Male, young, her mind added a moment after. "Because, I'll let you in a little secret. It doesn't work."

Even though it did sound like it was mocking her. And him. Just for the second, Kate would let it go. The urge to pull those stupid braids was far more pressing, matching anger for his amusement. Because the Commander was amused. She just knew he was, like she was a bug caught in his hand, trying to wiggle between closed fingers.

"Ah. You found a stubborn one. Lovely. You know, boy, maybe you could do something about her since the Commander's acting like a five year old? Thank you."

The eyes left her line of vision as the man was tugged down by the new arrival and her head was pushed aside without permission by strong fingers. Sam. An unhappy Sam. "We fought darkspawn, Tabris."A very unpleased one. Sam never used her last name. Ever. "These people are supposed to fight them. Conscription means we're forced to join them. I'll explain the rest later. Enough?"

It wasn't a question. It was a command. Kate deflated quickly, feeling the disappointment all over his tone. She understood, of course, he was right. To challenge someone who had their lives on his hands, she shouldn't. But _still_.

"You didn't explain. Didn't you think explaining stuff to the possibly violent elves might have been a good idea? Randomly?"

An insolent tone, a joking grin, a handsome face. Those were the first things Kate noticed about the newly arrived human. He leaned against the Commander with all the grace of a drunkard, pulling and _tugging _on his arm. This was the one who had called them children? The irony wasn't exactly lost in her.

Loghain sighed – actually _sighed_ – into one hand, pinching his nose like the man's presence was enough to give him a migraine. "Enough, Maric. Maker, enough. Just have Azar start the preparations for the Joining. Get these two into quarters. And stop insulting me in front of the recruits."

"Who else would if not me?" Blonde and happy, it was a wonder the Commander hadn't killed him yet. Kate and Sam exchanged looks and reached the same conclusion. _Insane_.

"My point exactly." The brown haired man shook the other's arm, rolling his eyes like he was dealing with a particularly annoying kid. "And don't hit on the new one just because she's an elf."

Was this the guy who had dragged them into the middle of nowhere after battling things out of her worst nightmares? It just didn't compute. The man – Maric – smiled at her of all people and winked, a little salute before beginning to walk down the path. And Loghain followed involuntarily, not even thinking of the ones he left behind.

"You speak as if I have some kind of fetish with ears."

"You do." Loghain's tone would have dried out the Amaranthine Sea.

"Bullshit," A hand moved to wave the statement away. "Haven't hit on Derym yet, have I?"

And again. "Derym's _male_."

They sounded vaguely like a comedy show.

There was the path before them and there was the path behind. Kate still had her backpack, still carried her dagger, poultices and leftover bandages that she could use to heal herself whenever they had the time. They didn't need to stay. She raised her head to the one above her shoulder, Sam's eyes steady on her, the same thoughts running over his mind. They were alone. They could leave.

"You know, if we run," she whispered. "We can still make it. They wouldn't chase us just for the reward."

"We could."

Her fingers tightened around his waist, tiredness making itself feel now that all distractions had been removed. "Those things are still around though. And the Circle. We might be sent to the Reservation too, if we don't find protection."

"We might."

So not being helpful. Sam was waiting for her to find the dots and connect them when he already knew the answer.

"I'm kind of tired of just running. Aren't you?"

Finally, Sam smiled, his previous irritation nowhere in sight. His lips rested against her temple, very lightly, and she felt his approval spread through her body like one of his spells. "Was waiting until you could say that," he said simply. "Come on. Let's get this going. Maybe it won't be so bad." There was a moment of pause, filled with the sounds of the forest, the wind and, faraway, the busy sounds of the Compound, the shouts of men and laughter, so much laughter. Sam was watching their destiny, not bothering to notice her. If he had, he would have seen the solid skepticism on her features. "And stop making that face."

"Will you stop being stupidly optimistic?"

"Now that would just make it impossible for you to say I told you so, wouldn't it?"

"…idiot."

Slowly, the two elves began their way down the hill, Kate carrying the impression her and the Commander had one single thing in common. A friend who was able to manipulate them effortlessly.

xxxXXXxxx

It had been a calculated gamble on his part. Slowly walking away, leaving the pair to decide whether to come or go on their own. He didn't doubt they would stay. There was too much at stake but still, the allure of freedom was always there. This would give them the option of picking their own prison, the illusion of a choice, nothing more. He waited though, uncomfortable due to the beginning of winter, feeling the pungent sign of the taint nearby which denounced new attacks soon enough.

"Are you sure they will come?" Loghain asked out loud without looking away from the two small figures.

The woman by his side didn't reply. Her smile was grating, smugly so, crossed arms over her chest, the same blue and grey uniform everyone inside those walls wore. However, unlike any of the other mages, the dark haired female disregarded any staff or blade, carrying herself like her body was all she needed to defend herself.

"I am always sure of what I say, Commander," she declared, a hand raised in the air, pointing exactly to the elven pair "It is a living beings' instinct. To survive. Give them a golden cage and they will choose it. Give them a way out of the trap and they won't question the wider nets around them. See? Already coming down. Such smart children."

And they were. Slowly, stumbling down the path as the girl's strength began fading into nothing, the mage struggling to walk and keep her standing at the same time. Tabris still seemed unsure. Surana was measuring but not completely untrusting. He reminded Loghain a little of the woman by his side only less dangerous. Someone who saw more than the immediately visible. No help was asked for, no complaint uttered as the elves dragged themselves forward.

It was done.

"We have arrived." Loghain didn't smile, didn't show any outward signal of being pleased. But he nodded in respect, moving to pass the card over the slot which would allow them entrance. "Be welcome to Ostagar."

"And you welcoming future Wardens into this place," Azar's low whisper reached his ears, the familiar touch of disgust she always inspired running down his spine. "Your son-in-law would have been so proud."

The look he gave her was of pure and undiluted hatred.

"Be silent, Azar."

The woman's responding laughter sounded joyous and dangerous in equal measure.

* * *

><p><strong>Author's note:<strong> _I would just like to thank everyone who has read and reviewed the first chapter. Thank you for giving this story a chance. This is a slower chapter, I am aware but I will attempt to have it picking up on the next. Hope you liked it._


	3. Know Only You Know Nothing

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**knowl-edge .** Familiarity, awareness, or understanding gained through experience or study;_ state or fact of knowing.  
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The second they had passed through the Gates, Kate's memory became a blur. There was the unclear recollection of being led through odd streets and lightened hallways, of someone telling her to undress, a woman who tutted and scolded as she cleaned the wound the darkspawn had left in her flesh, scolded her and those who walked with her; hadn't they seen the taint spreading? They hadn't, don't touch me, she had told them so and all that she also told the woman in impromptu defense. Forgetting it wasn't Sam she was defending but people she knew nothing of. Kate was doomed to remember only things that would make her harm herself in shame. After that, nothing.

When the elf woke, she was alone. Someone had laid her on a bed – a real, honest to Maker _bed_ – and dressed her in an actual nightgown. Or perhaps she had in her sleep hazed walk, that was a much more pleasant thought than some stranger dressing her. Kate's fingers reached out to the pleasant numbness on her shoulder. That hadn't been her work. It had been bandaged carefully, tightly, covered in poultices and something which reminded her of the gardens of the capital. The girl felt rested, cared for. Even protected. It wasn't a feeling she was used to when alone.

Pulling herself upwards was far easier than she thought. It was so good, Kate allowed herself to think, to feel her body obeying her without complaining, feel actual strength flowing through her body. It was nice. Understatement aside, it was really nice. If she ignored the way her hair was plastered to her skin and back – a sign that it would probably wouldn't manage to move in a whirlwind – and the stench the creatures' blood had left behind on her skin, it was the best she had felt in a long time.

It allowed her to focus on something other than herself.

The room she was in wasn't anything special. White walls, long walls interrupted steadily by high windows filled with sunlight. Wooden closets to a corner, a very small desk to the other containing papers and vellums together, mixed in what had little to do with organization. Other beds had been positioned throughout the space and, the one exactly opposite to her, carried signs of having been slept on and a bag she recognized as Sam's. He should be okay. Otherwise that wouldn't have been left behind. The less one had, the more it became precious.

"Ah, you awaken finally."

It was a female voice which greeted her. Sharp but not unpleasant. Kate's head moved immediately to face its origin to find a woman, an elven woman at that. Middle aged. She had pleasantly drawn features, a smooth oval face, ringlets of short brown hair barely covering her pointy ears and her eyes. They were light, a light blue that was one step from white. She was an extraordinarily tall woman for an elf, walking straight and with a confidence that Kate had seen solely on one or two people since a child. Somehow, it was easy to see this woman knew her place in life and knew exactly how to defend it. All in all, not someone to cross unless one wished to be harmed. When she came closer, one hand reaching for her forehead without bothering to see if it would be welcome, the impression only increased.

"I thought the Commander to have more common sense," she commented in a tone that spoke of annoyance. Over her Commander. Kate struggled not to let her confusion show but it probably shone like a beacon in the dark. "I was told you carried your friend all the way to the Compound? And injured. A couple more days and the taint would have set in. He should have known better. Maker, that man listens to no one." Her hands were a flurry of movement, pushing her gown aside to check upon her bandages as if Kate had awaken and immediately started picking at them like a wounded mabari.

Her lips parted in the instinctual wish to say that no, she had obeyed none; she had done only what she had wanted. Only that would be defending the man who had brought her there against her will. Wouldn't that be contradictory? Maker, her head was all knots and drunken stupor. Had someone given her medicine? She ran her tongue faintly against her lips, trying to taste any unknown flavor. Nothing.

The woman rolled her eyes, too close and obviously aware of the movement. Then she actually slapped the back of her head like she was a misbehaved child. "I haven't poisoned you, girl. If I had wanted you dead, all I had was to let nature take its course with your wounds." Maker help her, it had to be her confusion that kept her from reacting because the only thing she did was to raise her hands to the offended area, eyes open like someone faced with a thing out of its range of comprehension. "Your mind must still be addled. The taint. Your injury was festering all over. Couple of hours without proper care and you would have been a walking corpse. My thank you?"

Kate rubbed her temples, trying to get some sort of bearing back. To be on the run was usual but this was different. It was hard to keep running on unsteady floor.

The woman raised an eyebrow, her voice still the same no nonsense tone she had been using so far. "Guess that'd be wishing for too much. Commander did say you were a conscript."

Continuing with her trait of confusing severely the younger female, she moved quickly to grasp a couple of objects and threw them at Kate. A towel. Soap.

"You stink, girl," she informed ever so kindly. "Second door on the right, get going. Surana's already way ahead of you." She had forgotten Sam. How could she had forgotten Sam? Alarm coursed through her body like wild fire, eyes opening when they had been just an inch away of pushing her back into sleep. "I know you're not exactly prone to listen to pretty much anyone bar him but you can listen to me," the woman continued tersely. "Go. I'll keep things stable. You have my word." Just because she was an elf? Elves weren't perfect. They betrayed their kind as well as any other. Kate's fingers tightened around the fabric on her hands, wondering not for the first time where her things were.

Her body moved slowly nevertheless, watching the other carefully for signs of duplicity. Her face was so frank though, honest, bluntly so.

"Tabris. Get your ass in there and clean up before you screw up my work."

And, at that moment, whoever that woman was sounded just like a drill sergeant and not jailor. Kate obeyed without questioning herself.

Maker and how she was grateful after the first two minutes. Baths for her were cold lake water or a river while Sam stood watch. They weren't showers and warm water, scented soap and actual towels instead of the thinnest blanket available. It was the same kind of fascination of the little girl who had once entered into her master's bathroom, stared around at the glinting surfaces and wondered what it was like to own simple things like that. Like that day, Kate allowed her fingers to rest on the marble surfaces, trace the shining surface of the mirror. The only thing missing was her own mother, alarmed and scared, entering only to drag her out as fast as her legs could manage.

_What in the world were you thinking, Kallian? Do you want the master to be displeased? Do you want us to be thrown into the streets?_

First thing any Denerim elf learned. Never displease the masters of the household. Sometimes the girl wondered if those had been the first words said to her or that her lips had uttered. It did seem like it. That and forbidden. Everything was forbidden. Too much food, too much drink, too much music, too happy, too sad, too energetic, too apathetic. Fade help her, it was like they would complain if elves were made of gold and ready to be sold.

"Just don't take the whole day in there." The not so gentle voice of the older woman came from the other side of the door, complete with kicks against said surface and grumbling.

At least she hadn't said the Commander would be displeased. That would make the parallelism too strong for her pride to handle.

Instead of losing time, Kate moved to do just as the woman had said. The bandages were peeled off carefully, showing a deep scar which carried just the barest hint of black between the white flesh. It didn't seem nearly as dangerous as the woman – doctor, person? – had claimed. She had had worse with a kitchen knife. Her fingers trailed down the scar, noticing how wide, how four scratches laid in parallel lines, deeply etched in what had been smooth skin. Well. Maybe not worse. Still, not life threatening. Kate discarded the now useless bandages into the sink and slipped into the shower. The lukewarm water on her skin was all she needed to scrub herself raw. Like the creatures' stain was still upon her, like the moss she had slept in, the dust of the roads, all of that had found their way into her skin and into her soul. It was liberating. Stupid little notion.

Maker, she was turning into a disturbingly annoying person if her moods continued to shift between distrust and disgust at trusting.

Still, the water was cleansing, perfect. Kate even allowed herself to smile when she got out, even as she rubbed her skin even more strongly, as she struggled to take out every knot her hair had managed to achieve what seemed the last ten years or so. When she looked back at the mirror and saw her own image, she almost did a double-take. She had _aged_ since those days. Her hair was still black, still annoyingly wavy, mismatched tresses since her skill with a dagger was even worse when trying it on herself. Her skin had tanned to an impossible degree, something the still waters on the way hadn't showed, her face had turned sterner, the little lines which had been of smiles had transferred to her forehead even when in rest. She reached out to smooth then with her fingers. A futile effort. She had grown and aged. But her hair, Maker's breath, she no longer looked like she was housing eels instead of hair.

Girlish reaction or not, that was one reason to be satisfied.

Sadly, enough was enough. Kate discarded the towel and pushed the nightgown back into place before reaching out for the doorknob. She was one step from opening the door when known voices stopped her.

"Ines, my _love_! Passion of my existence. Jewel of my eyes. My dove, my ray of sunshine, my one and only."

And if she hadn't recognized the voice, she surely recognized the disrespectful tone and the utter nonsense. The Commander's friend, Kate recalled, pulling the door just the slightest bit open so she could look into the other division. And Ines? Who was…?

"Yes, me and the fourteen other females who lack round ears in this place." It was the elven woman. Her hands rested on her waist exactly like a misplaced housewife and, if possible, her expression had turned sterner. Thankfully, not turned to her but to him. If it was to her, Kate swore she wouldn't be nearly as tranquil as the man. "You sing well but not well enough for me, Maric," she retorted dryly. "What do you want?"

"Your undying love, my dove. But as that'll take some more years, I'll be content with the new recruit for now." Kate saw him stealing a glance at the bed she had occupied earlier and then around. Searching. The opening she was looking through became ever smaller.

Ines reacted by keeping herself busy, clearing away empty flasks of what had once been medicine. "Bathing. You can't enter. And unless she comes with a chastity belt included, you won't be taking her until her friend arrives." Kate's appreciation for the older woman was rising steadily.

"You wound me deeply, my dear lady." Doubtful, he still looked like the cat that ate the canary. "I would never dare to pursue."

"Anything male or humans. And as sadly, the Commander forbade me to cut anything bellow your waist, you'll keep away from this one." Her hand rose in the air and pointed steadily to the door which, presumably, lead to the rest of the building. "Out. Get Surana."

The blond man – Maric – kept smiling in amusement. It was like the words and threats the woman spoke simply didn't filter even though she seemed highly serious. He seemed eternally amused, like the world was a circus and they the clowns he'd chose to play with. "I should get you a whip, dearest." Kate didn't want to know. Never. Ever. "So I shouldn't say that she's been watching the whole time and looking really cute in that nightgown?"

Not even her muffled curse and run for cover could drown Ines' exasperated sigh.

"Maric?" Silence. "Get out of my infirmary."

A burst of male laughter followed. Kate had to give it to him. He had the lowest self preservation instinct she had ever seen in her whole life. But he obeyed, voice finally too soft for her to hear through the now closed door. Whatever he had said seemed serious as, the second his footsteps faded, someone was knocking on the bathroom door in tandem with her own head, banging against the wood. Cursed the time she had agreed to follow into this place. It was like any of her intelligence had remained on that hill.

"If you want some degree of explanation, this is when you come out. Otherwise, they'll come here and drag you whether you want it or not."

Kate was already moving before the sentence was over, swearing against her bloody curiosity all the while.

xxxXXXxxx

Grey Wardens, Ines had explained, were a little more than simple assassins. Darkspawn were a little more than simple monsters. The taint wasn't a mere stain on her skin, it was far more serious. The more Ines talked about the different things, the more Kate became skeptical over the whole thing, topping it with a wide measure of suspicion and lack of assurance over everyone's sanity. They spoke of legends and times much before their own. How could they believe their sacred duty to be killing off those things? Seriously?

Kate even doubted Sam's intelligence. He couldn't believe in this, really.

Shame that he had appeared half way to the explanation and had adopted the posture of a student near someone much wiser, nodding every time the woman added one more incredible detail to the story. Dragons? Ogres? What would be next? Fairies and magical immortal elves?

Even more unfortunate, every time Kate tried to sign him that these people were all insane and they should find the nearest window and get away from there as fast as possible, the man ignored her in favor of continuing to ask about details. _Details_. Like anyone could ask details about fairytales. No one cared about the color of Dane's fur, did they? Or how Aveline had had a limp on a leg and a scar crossing her whole back. Fairytales, nothing more. If she forced herself a little more, the girl could almost believe that the creatures they had fought were nothing more than an accident, freaks of nature plaguing the woods.

How quickly would she die if she called them insane to their face?

Ines' expression certainly gave that impression. The older woman was serious – well, more than she had been if possible – sitting in her chair in a manner akin to a noblewoman, never mind the fact that both Sam and her huddled together on her infirmary bed.

"So, we must pass a proof before we become Wardens, yes?" Sam ruffled his now cleaned hair, brimming like fire in the half-light of the late afternoon. "A dangerous one."

"Yes."

Kate had the impression this woman and the Commander were best friends. If only because they ignored the necessity to soften any verbal blows.

Her clear eyes turned from one elf to the other slowly. Was that pity? Fear? Evaluation of the two in front of her? "Though, for some reason," she continued. "I think you won't have trouble. The Commander is unusually good at choosing his recruits. We have little losses."

Sam exchanged a fleeting glance with her, finally worried. She understood those feelings. The idea of a loss, of having their life on the balance. Kate felt her teeth grinding against each other, nails digging on her palms. Why was everything so hard to understand? Her world was always black and white. Flee and live, stay and give up. This was a whole range of new colors and she was dead sure she wasn't enjoying it one bit.

"You can be done with the feeling of doom and gloom, idiots." Ines stood from her chair and patted away her blue uniform in fast movements, as if just by sitting she had been drowned in dust. "I know the Commander," she declared bluntly. "He knows what he does. If he says you belong here, you'll survive and you'll stay. That's all there is to know."

_My job's to end them. Yours will be to kill for me. That's the only thing you need to know._

The words rang familiar and hollow. It felt like a net, ropes tied tightly around her wrists and ankles, something she couldn't free herself from. Like a human turned into a tool.

Ines didn't notice or didn't care to. She was again moving back and forth as if her own being was averse to keeping still. Words were exchanged with Sam, sharp and to the point, an uniform in everything similar to the one she wore on his hands before he was sent away to dress like a little boy. And in the same manner, the older elf turned to her, _do as I say, stop complaining_ and, in her apathy, Kate didn't think to protest.

It would be okay, she breathed deeply, exchanging the nightware for that odd material, the weird uniform which branded them while trying to regain her standing. All she needed was to survive. It wouldn't be that hard.

"And take these too."

Amused, dry, one step behind calling her an idiot; all that passed through Ines's expression, each too quick to be retained. The woman held two daggers, sheathed in leather, worn and cared for like a treasured item of clothing.

Kate almost took a step back in confusion. "Madam?"

"Ines." A small motion to offer both items. "Take them. You look the kind who will stop flinching at shadows if she has something sharp to stick into them."

The only time Kate had held such a treasure had been when first learning. The man who had taught her believed in accepting necessity. And necessity had brought him to arm himself whenever possible. His daggers had been more beautiful than these but Kate couldn't disagree the simplicity of the grey blades was appealing. Shining eerily, a trace of cold throughout the surface who spoke of actual enchantments.

"Happy? All cheered?" Ines raised an eyebrow, pretentious sympathy out the window and into the Fade. "Now out of the freaking infirmary. This is a place for sick people, not grumbling brats. Maker damn you all, I don't get a break."

Walking like an Ogre itself was after her, the healer left her behind, holding the new weapons and wondering just where to go. Maybe just. Wait for Sam. These people seemed to have the very bad habit of gifting no indications and expecting them to follow. Like someone teaching another how to swim by throwing it into a lake. Kate leaned against her bed, fiddling with the handle of a dagger, fingers tracing the worn down leather without curiosity.

It was exactly then that everything went to hell all over again. A shrill bell began ringing, the lights above them flickering in and out like lightning instead of electricity. Her body startled in alarm, eyes turning from side to side in search of whatever danger. Andraste's sword, what now?

"What do you think it's going on?" Sam returned from wherever he had disappeared into in a hurry. He wore robes for the first time since Maker knew when, the same kind Amell had worn the day before. Blue, a vest of a material that didn't seem metal nor plastic covering his chest, ringlets of the same material covering partially the bottom of the robe, the only part of the uniform which seemed modeled after the classical style. In a way, it was very much what she was wearing only hers was skin-tight, shirt and pants covered in that odd armor. And a staff. Someone had given him a staff.

Any other moment, Kate would have wondered about the intelligence behind carrying that. But as she was carrying daggers, weapons no elf should carry, she wasn't one to talk.

"King's Guard? Chantry? Bandits? Those things? Does it even matter?"

The girl almost insulted herself when she saw Sam's face. It was stern once more, tense. _Disappointed_. He had thought to find peace there. The shrill noise of the siren, the hurried steps outside spoke of something much different. She touched a gloved hand to his shoulder, fingertips lingering in an unspoken apology; as if she was to blame too. He gave her a twisted little smile in return. No happiness.

"I take point." It would be worse if she commented upon it. "We should join the defenders?"

If there was any. Little pessimistic thought aside, it would be stupid to abandon something as large as that place because of a little attack. Unless it wasn't little. Maker, ties and mazes, that was all her mind could come up with since the day before.

The sheaths Ines had given her were placed quickly on her back and a dagger held by one hand, ready to be used. And talking about the older woman, Kate thought even as she walked towards the door, where the hell was she? Already fleeing? Already fighting? Well, it hadn't been the kindest thing to leave the newbies behind but still, she hoped the other would make it out unscathed of this thing, whatever it was. She had healed them after all. And armed them. That had been more help than any of the others had given.

That settled, Kate returned to the present time. Unlike her first suspicion, the door wasn't locked, sliding to the side easily when her fingers pulled on the latch. Stone walls covered with paintings and tapestries met her eyes, illuminated by lamps strategically placed, rich carpets and an opulent space. Everything no army barrack shouldn't be, the Compound surely was.

Sirens still rang, echoing in the empty hallway with the strength of Chantry bells and she could already feel a headache coming from the sheer effort of trying to understand that place.

They didn't have to wait long for danger to come knocking, almost literally. Kate had barely taken two steps out of the room when someone left stealth, right by her side, quick and agile. She barely noticed the sharp longsword just before sliding out of the way, the opposing blade all but touching her stomach.

A man, armed, dressed in black, a smirk and a sword. The elf assumed thinking she was his target wouldn't be terribly off target.

"Don't kill, Kate!"

She couldn't believe Sam was warning her not kill anyone right then! It wasn't like! Maker damnit all! She cursed loudly as the man slashed at her once more, ducking and slipping through her blows with an ease that spoke of experience. And he was smiling. Like she was about to kneel over and die at his feet, like he was toying with her instead of fighting. Not. Bloody. Likely. He fought like he was dancing, never standing in one place for long. Like a flea or a coward. It was a waste of time and movements but effective. Kate punched and he ducked, a kick directed to the space he had just vacated, another to where he was just melting into the shadows. He was just never there when her strike fell.

"Slow, girl," a whisper in her ears as they both slipped in and out of shadows. "You're too slow."

Kate's dagger ripped that place a second too late. "And you." She was about to say _talk too much_ but the man's closed fist on her jaw halted her words. _No. Damnit, no._ This was a human. She could fight humans, she thought desperately, spiting the blood his blow had caused, she was _good_ at fighting with humans. She didn't fear them; she just hated them. Throwing caution to the wind, the elf ducked when the next blow came, the longsword cutting the air right above her head, so close that she could swear some of her hair to be caught in the blow. In that moment of hesitation after the failure though, her legs steadied and then straightened immediately, her head turned weapon smashing directly into the man's chin.

The pain was immediate, sharp and resonating but the male groan, that was worth any discomfort. Pulling herself to recover, Kate didn't wait for her vision to stop wobbling. Instead, she pulled herself upwards, her fingers entwined around her dagger's handle and all three crashed against the back of his head with a satisfying crunch. He dropped like a sack of potatoes.

"Kate!"

"Didn't kill him, just hurt." Sam hadn't been inactive while she was otherwise engaged. His new staff gleamed with the aftermath of a spell, his own opponent already comfortably sleeping by the mage's feet like an oversized baby. Sam was too nice, she thought not for the first time, reigning in the wish to kick her unconscious opponent as her headache kept demanding. Shaking her hands to get rid of the aftermath of her blow, she glanced around at the maze-like hallways. "Where now?"

He probably knew just as much as she did – _nothing_ – but picked a hallway anyway, probably by pure and complete chance, and began running. It would do as well as any other. Kate didn't think twice before following after him, the two daggers now unsheathed and unhesitant. Each hallway meld into the next, each seemed similar and not even close to show an exit, Kate noticed, trying to keep herself from despairing yet again. Last case scenario, there was always finding a window and jumping. Stupid ideas, they should stop coming and, while she was on the subject, same with the siren, ripping her head apart with each passing second.

No sooner had she thought that suggestion, she was the one stopping, clashing painfully against Sam's back as the weirdo just _forgot to run_. Why wasn't he running? What in the world was he _thinking_? A hand reached out by instinct to grab the back of his robe, barely keeping her from falling backwards.

"Maker help us, what are you doing?" Kate was yelling, she knew herself to be yelling which was probably not the best idea but adrenaline pushed her to act stupidly. Not as stupidly as stopping in the middle of running away. She pushed his back but he wouldn't budge, shielding her from. Something.

Several some things.

"Turn around." His voice, very light, very careful and just for her. "Turn and keep moving."

What was?

She moved without voicing the question in order to face exactly what he was. In front of her was a group of blue decked warriors, all weapons drawn, ready to stop her in case she chose to follow Sam's orders. And they were smiling, just like the man she had knocked out.

"Run," Sam whispered again.

Unfortunately, the reason why he had stopped was painfully obvious. And just like him, Kate doubted she would be able to fly through these people, especially considering the sheer number. One had been hard to beat but seven?

"I think that's enough for a demonstration," someone commented. "Surana, Tabris, stand down."

The loud voice would have been enough to alert anyone in the vicinity, never mind the two elves. But the sole mention of her surname was enough for Kate to turn her head towards the origin of the voice. And there was the Commander, right in front of the battalion. All around him, weapons began returning to their sheaths, warriors abandoning their readied stances for something far more relaxed. Loghain didn't quite smile. He just gave them that half shrug, half turn of lips which spoke of a boss giving a nod of encouragement to an awful employee.

"Now that you have seen what they can do," he continued, paying little attention to those he had just called off. "I assume none is against their Joining?"

The man Kate had beat appeared from behind the group, a red hand covering the back of his head and that same amused smile he had given her. Amused. The idiot was _amused_.

"Won fair and square, boss," he shoved the stained hand in front of him, showing it off like some sort of ghastly prize. "And unless someone thinks I took it easy on her, I pass on a rerun. I only have one head."

"Or perhaps opt for someone more qualified."

Loghain didn't spare a look at his underling – Vaughan, her mind supplied rather sluggishly, the one who simply adored them – opting by ignoring the statement all together.

"They have battled darkspawn. They have been tested. Two tests, they passed. This is more than enough. Again, is anyone against this?" The statement was spoken as a question but anyone could see it was anything but. Especially when Maric showed by his right side, a golden goblet grasped in his hands, the liquid it contained splashing indolently every time the man's hands moved. A dark liquid, a dark red that reminded her grapes smashed, of a sunset just before the sun disappeared.

"This was all a test?" She heard herself ask, her voice shaken, Maker help her, almost afraid. There was something so odd with that goblet, dark and dangerous. Ah. Funny, wasn't it? She could swear to be more afraid of it than of the people gathering around her.

The murky liquid swirled around once, twice, thrice, demanding her attention and then Loghain was looking right at her face, an affirmative nod and nothing else. "It is not the most important," he declared, halting the next obvious enquiry. "This is." And again, the liquid splashed, moved like it had a life of its own. "

Amell, Kate could see him somewhere on the back, his friendly face contorted in a worry without explanation. There was Maric, his expression actually serious for once. Her opponent, encouraging and grinning, brown hair still dropping blood from where her dagger had struck.

"Join us, brothers and sisters," And finally the Commander, goblet in hand, wordlessly delivering the potion for either of them to take, asking whether she would be first even. "Join us in the shadows where we stand vigilant. Join us as we carry the duty that cannot be forsworn. And should you perish, know that your sacrifice will not be forgotten. And that one day we shall join you."

Should you perish. The goblet in front of her and Kate almost immediately took it in her hands, even as she could sense Sam moving by her side to do the same. Looks were exchanged like so many times before, requests unsaid, _be careful_, apologies and goodbyes.

Kate raised the cup to her lips, closed her eyes tightly and forced the liquid into her mouth. Then swallowed even though all her instincts told her to spat it out immediately. But she didn't. She pushed it down, forced the wish to throw up to fade away and waited. Waited until warmth filled her stomach, then spread through her body and turned itself into pain; coursing through her veins instead of blood, through every inch of her skin and flesh.

"Now you." Were the last words she heard before her consciousness abandoned her.

xxxXXXxxx

_Seven. They were Seven, she noticed absently. And _they_ were Seven too. No. That was wrong. They had been Seven, only one was left. One, scaled, corrupted, destroyed. Its voice pierced her ears but she had no hands to cover them. But the fear. She could have covered her ears for a thousand years that the voice would still shake her bones, scare her living blood out of her body. It sounded angry, hateful like a sworn enemy was supposed to be. And when it screamed at her, it spoke of failure, it laughed at her, of her, mocking and accusing and frightening; it made her wish to die, if only to escape it._

_It was the last, it spoke to her, clearer words never spoken, but it wouldn't leave without taking more of them. _

_Remember._

xxxXXXxxx

And then Kate woke. Her head hurt, her headache worsened after whatever had happened with that stupid potion. Doubled. The elf didn't bother to try and open her eyes. She was still breathing after being poisoned, after all. Who would stab her after that? And her head. And the dream. Maker.

"See? They both woke. Yes, I am a genius and spread good luck and immunity to the taint, worship me."

Both. Sam was alright. Another deep breath and an almost smile.

"Maric." The Commander said where most would groan. "Contain the idiocy."

"_Fine_, let's go back to the depressing atmosphere you exude. Infirmary, got it. A question though?" A suffering tone, false and then serious like a dagger against flesh. "Why were you so sure of these two?"

In half unconsciousness, she could still feel the intensity of the pause which followed those words.

"I had a hunch."

Oh. That was just. _Dandy_. They had almost been killed on a _hunch_. The elf would have laughed if she had had the strength. As she didn't and the world was still spinning rather quickly, she settled in allowing whomever to gather her in strong arms, keeping her safely tucked like a child on its mother's arms. Before allowing herself to rest, Kate wondered just why her life seemed to be in uproar ever since they had met that man. And just what he would come up with next.

Maker, she hated humans.

* * *

><p><strong>Author's note:<strong> _Not incredibly sure about this chapter but, unfortunately, I didn't get the time to smash ideas for it on someone. To be continued. Again, suggestions are more than welcome. Why this new character? Because I wanted her here and she amuses me._


	4. Endure When You Must

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**en-dure .** To carry on through, despite hardships; _suffer without yielding_

xxxXXXxxx

The infirmary roof was beginning to seem extremely boring. And white. And blank. The bed underneath her body which had been soft and comfortable at first was seriously beginning to seem an annoyance. All because Ines thought a Joining was extremely serious business. Hence, they wouldn't leave those beds until she was sure and certain that nothing would come out of being poisoned after a surprise attack and being scared half to death. Kate wasn't feeling like a happy camper, no.

And worst of all, she was hungry. Ravenously so.

"You'll burn it," Sam commented sleepily. "Stop glaring. Won't get us out earlier."

The black and brown stain on the ceiling right above her was stared at and, unfortunately, no such thing happened. Nothing happened. Kate half expected to have woken up feeling like someone had run her over with a truck. Or not at all. In its place, there was a constant surge of energy sweeping through her body, something which kept her fidgeting even as she tried to rest. Closed doors, closed windows, any more time inside that room and there would be serious damage to something. She could just see it.

Her companion showed no such compulsion. Sam snored away like a champion, snuggled tightly into the blankets and curled over himself. On moments of semi-awakening, he would give her one or two words to keep her on the bed and then turn around, sleeping away once more.

Kate sighed as she stood up for what seemed the hundredth time, a fleeting glance to where Ines had disappeared. The first time she had woken, it had been to the woman's voice, shouting at the Commander of all people. The test had been too quick, without warning. They should have waited until the recovery was complete, what in the world had he been thinking? Kate didn't remember what the man had replied. Only that, whatever it had been, had the effect of ice on skin, cutting, reducing the woman to an annoyed mutter instead of the loud scolding she had used till then. Then she noticed her patient's eyes had opened and used that moment to threaten both of them not to get up under penalty of receiving enough tranquilizers to knock down an ogre. After ten hours though, the threat had steadily turned meaningless.

The nightgown was exchanged for the uniform Ines had left behind. Everyone she had seen till that point wore it. Better to get used to the odd contraption. Tight yet comfortable, resistant, much more than her clothes could ever be. She tried – rather foolishly – to rip a side with no result. Even a dagger had done little to no damage. Maybe they were serious when they said they wanted the elves alive. That would be a new one, definitely.

The woman had just begun tightening the last buckle when the door to the infirmary opened. Her first reaction was to run for cover – good Maker, it was like she had been raised as a savage. The second was to run to the bed because, if it was Ines, Kate could bet half her lifetime that the woman would shackle her to the bed, good or bad health not called into question. She did neither, which ultimately was a good thing as both were rather demeaning. After what seemed a long moment, the rest of the door was opened and Amell entered.

He looked tired, like someone which had slept little, dark circles under his eyes and his ever present smile had faded into something which barely a shadow of it. Even his hair seemed to have taken a turn for the worse, knots and tangles showing he hadn't bothered trying to tame it.

Barely a step had been taken inside when he notice her presence, looking at her like he was seeing her for the very first time.

"Oh. You're still here." A real gift for the obvious, that man had. Buckle in place, Kate reached out for the weapons Ines had provided and proceeded to add them to their place. These humans had the bad habit of surprising her all the bloody time. Leaving anything to chance was just asking for trouble. Later maybe she'd think of herself as paranoid. Later as in, when she no longer remembered the sirens blaring over her head. The man's face from the shadows, mocking, disappearing and returning with an ease she didn't have.

"I was told not to leave," she informed, shaking those thoughts away. Belt crossing her body, even more buckles steading neatly where they wouldn't bother her. "Ines practically threatened us."

To her surprise, Amell's smile turned up a notch. "She does that to everyone after the Joining," he informed. When Kate failed to reply – probably wondering why it would be strange for a healer to keep someone for observation – he saw fit to elaborate. "The Joining's taxing but just for twelve hours or so. A good night sleep and you're pretty good to go. Your friend was probably exhausted. Explains why he's still asleep."

"Then why?" Kate raised her arms, gesturing to the space and shaking her head slowly, Universal gesture for 'what in the world?'

The man wobbled a little on the balls of his feet, staff leaning back and forth. "She likes watching to see how long it will take for new recruits to disobey her. Usually by waiting until they're too hungry to listen to anything bar their stomach. She has an odd sense of humor."

That wasn't strange. That was either insane or sadistic.

"I lasted two hours," he whispered, certifying that he was, indeed, a little on the odd side.

"So I can leave? No one will stop me?"

"By the love of Andraste, do so!" A pillow hit her back without warning, preceding a bleary eyed Sam. He looked. Well, there was no way to say it politely. He looked a little better than they had ever on the run but still, it was like the tiredness of their entire escape had suddenly decided to fall on his back. "I swear to the Maker, Tabris. Let me sleep! Or I'll. Just."

She raised an eyebrow. "Work on your threats? Finish a sentence? Appear a little threatening?"

Another pillow was thrown before the male elf huddled back into the blankets. "Maker. Don't make me fry you early in the morning."

"It's afternoon."

A hand left the nest of fabric and raised itself on the hair. Closing into a fist, soon enough the familiar cackle of lightning was surrounding her friend's skin.

"I am going to hurt you."

The elf ignored those words as she would ignore any threat from Sam. Not even bothering with Amell's presence on the background, watching everything with an expression Kate couldn't understand, she came closer to the bed and moved the fabric around until she found the male's head. Her fingers pushed the unruly hair aside before she kissed his forehead lightly. When she pulled back, his eyes were open and almost alert. Measuring. The same hand which had made the futile warning found her wrist and squeezed weakly.

"Be careful," he whispered, loud enough to be heard by her alone. "You hear me?"

It was good to know that, as fascinated as he was with the Wardens – which he was, childishly so – Sam wasn't ready to trust them blindly anytime soon. This was the Sam she knew. Another brush of her lips against his skin was her answer. Words weren't needed. There would be Gold in the Black city before she trusted the men who persisted in throwing their lives upside down. And that included the other woman too.

"Now get out." That effectively stopped her from changing her mind and keep watch while he rested.

Amell was still standing patiently, arms crossed over his chest.

"Food first?"

Maker above, unless he wanted her to attack and eat someone on the way, food first.

xxxXXXxxx

"Little man, you mean. At least that's what every girl says."

"Want to handle that on the ring?"

"No. Definitely not swinging your way."

"Too man for you, huh? As expected, mageling."

"Not nearly enough. Amelia said you ended before two minutes?"

"You little pranc—"

Watching Amell and this man together was like watching a cat trying to speak with a mouse instead of eating it.

Not that she cared. They had filled a tray with things she hadn't had the chance to eat in _years_ and her attention was mostly on the delicious looking morsels. The two men could continue to argue till they were old and grey for all she cared. She was too focused in gobbling down as much as possible without chocking. And as much as possible was turning into a huge amount indeed. Kate couldn't even conceive how many pieces had passed through her lips. Only that they had, the men were smirking and her stomach was far from full. Go figure.

The rest was just a poor man's television at work.

"Here, Tabris." Amell passed another plate her way without looking and crossed his arms over the table. "Better to keep food close in this place. Less chance for fights."

The man who sat with them snorted loudly, half drowning himself with the beer he had been drinking. It was the male who had tested her. Just the barest touch taller than her – which made him incredibly short for a human – lean and strong looking. With the hint of a belly, probably due to the large amount of beer he had drunk already and probably did on a daily basis. His red hair was darker than Sam, his small eyes a strong blue which blend in well with the rest of his appearance and the beard nicely cut and braided. Against Amell's smoother expression, he seemed aged. Oghren, Amell had called him.

Again without bothering to give him the smallest look – something Kate wished she could have done; the liquid had sprayed pretty much everywhere, after all – Amell threw a napkin at the other as if it was a common occurrence, a muttered 'stupid' definitely leaving his lips.

"He'd know." Another loud scoff, fortunately hidden by the napkin. What a pig. "First week on the job?" The man jabbed a thumb in the mage's direction, grinning like a fool. "Idiot stabbed a guy's hand with a fork."

That didn't match the mage's attitude till that moment. He seemed calm, always at ease, impeccable manners in comparison with what she was deeming her vacuuming style of eating.

"He moved the plate while I was getting something," he explained slowly.

"Bullshit. You almost jumped him for scrambled eggs. Fuck if I don't remember, Cullen."

Maker help her, were these two always like that? Kate looked around, trying to see if anyone else thought this to be stupid. None did. Some sent amused looks, some snickered, the majority ignored the two like they were an annoyance and hardly worthy of their time.

And Cullen? Who in the Void was Cullen?

Amell coughed into his hand and saw fit to, thankfully, change the subject. Might have been embarrassment. Was embarrassment. Had to be considering he was looking like someone thrown into an oven. His companion was smirking like someone who had just won an entire year of salary. Idiots.

"I heard the Commander mentioning Haven yesterday. Might want to catch up by the reservation for more recruits, wouldn't know." He waved a hand carelessly. "With the uprising and the general opinion of the Wardens growing, he's probably going to milk it for all he's worth."

Her fork stopped before it passed through her lips, heavy drops of sauce falling on table's surface.

"Uprising?" It was the first contribution she had given to the conversation. "What do you mean with uprising?"

To her limited knowledge, only two classes would wish to rise against anything. She represented one and Sam the other; none of them had heard anything about this. She stuck the fork in her mouth before she said something which would show her incredible ignorance about anything outside the wilderness and continued to eat. Different was how she was actually interested. The food was chewed on to give time to actual breathing to occur, allowing her to follow the men's conversation now that it had turned serious.

"Haven's a mess when it comes to control. The Queen can try all she wants and the Chantry can shout all they want, their Hahren's one step behind declaring independence. Good for them, I say." Oghren burped, beating with a closed hand against his chest. "Woman's smart to keep this not against you, not with you thing going. Doesn't give any reason for the Templars to play kill the elves nor does she bend her head. Smart woman. Think we'll get there, what? Next week?"

"Maybe next month." Amell – well, Cullen – was shaking his blond head. "It's a dangerous game. Eventually they will all fall on her. Anyone who might replace her would be far wor—"

How ridiculous would it be to ask for explanations over the whole thing?

"Bullshit, Amell. Think they haven't tried? People tried killing her before, she's still up and kicking. Fade, even her fucking family. Met them in Redcliffe. Bunch of prissy little fuckers with too much cash." The brunette patted his hands strongly against his pants and reached out for another jug. "Not bad for a Guerrin, that chick."

Guerrin. Kate knew that name. Anyone from Redcliffe to Amaranthine would. The family who ruled the red city, one of the five who had come up with what they had called the 'Purge' – a name that made her think of insects and not her kind; added insult to injury – and especially the ones who enriched by using others. No. That name brought no pleasant memories.

"So she's a human?" Sue her, she was curious.

"All Reservation Hahren's are," Funny how Oghren knew more of her people than herself. He even seemed angry about the whole thing, like they thought it to be an injustice. Which it was. But he was neither elf nor mage, not many would think that. "Most of the time the title means fucking nothing. This one's just."

"Weird," Amell completed.

"Weird. The Commander likes her." That seemed to be enough for the brunette's complete approval of the woman.

Cullen cleared his throat, gesturing vaguely with a hand for Ogrhen to shut up. Kate didn't even notice why until the reason was right by her side, towering above her. Female, mage, Maker above, where had she come from?

She scooted to the side the slightest bit, trying to keep some personal space between her and whoever this person was.

"Time to keep silent, children." She breezed in like a ghost – something which she was beginning to doubt to be just a story. Graceful and lithe but the last word Kate would use to describe her would be weak or frail. It wasn't even the way she carried herself, the hint of arrogance or how she seemed to know more than them. It was something unnamable which made the elf stop paying attention to the conversation and fall silent. "These are subjects best left to those who understand them. And mage or not, neither of you knows enough to meddle. Now do you?" They didn't.

Both grown men closed their mouths at the same time, Amell with a small contrite look towards the table.

"Forgive us, Azar. We were just."

"Speaking, of course. And now you are silent. That's more like it." Azar didn't sit, did come closer; she just continued speaking in that little calm tone which made shivers run up and down other's arms. Like Sam's electricity when he was distracted, only this was invisible. "You boys should be training. Commander Loghain will rely on you pretty soon, you wouldn't want to disappoint him. And while we're on the subject." Her eyes, too light, too uncomfortable to stare at turned to hers. Kate felt like she was on the wrong side of an examination. When the woman patted her shoulder, it was like someone had dropped her into a cold shower. "You should take her too. Girl's green. Get her to learn something new."

Like she arrived, she left. Without warning. Andraste help her, there was no break in that place.

"Who is she?" Her hands closed on the silverware, trying hard not to let go in order to rub her arms. Or reach for the daggers, whichever seemed more comfortable.

Oghren's expression was so closed that it felt like etched in stone. "The Commander's freaking mistake that's what she is." Amell began to open his mouth to say something but was stopped by a sharp gesture of the brunette, the chair falling to the floor as he stood. "Don't even start, mage. Don't fucking care what little things she whispers in the right ears. That woman? Reason why all you mages are considered dangerous. Fuck if I'll believe otherwise. You."

A finger was stuck in front of her eyes, dripping oil and splattered with meat bits. "Keep away from her. Woman's not to be trusted."

Who did this guy think he was? He was the one to try and kill her not twelve hours before.

"Don't listen to him." Amell pushed his chair back, reaching out for his staff. "She probably told him no the first time he tried getting her into bed. Happens all the time."

"What did you just say?"

Standing up, Kate could only think about how maybe it wasn't too late to get away from that place. And these people.

xxxXXXxxx

The weapon was strangely heavy in her hand. It seemed to so alien. Kate turned it from side to side, watching the odd metal contraption with a wary kind of curiosity. She was usually on the wrong side of the channel. And that side usually hurt. It was best to be confined to her daggers. They wouldn't accidently fall on her foot while she was distracted and this thing? It obviously had it for her. As much as any inanimate object could. She grimaced with her own stupid thoughts, gripping the handle a little more firmly. It was just a weapon. Just a weapon.

Just a weapon that could turn her heart into pudding from twenty feet away.

What had Ogrhen been thinking? Kate had thought he disliked the so called Azar. And here he was, following her suggestions like a well behaved mabari. He probably hadn't thought at all about this. Probably just wanted to get rid of her while he attempted to pummel another man to the ground. She could see them from where she stood, circling carefully around the training ground, the man jumping in and out of shadows as he had done against her. He had obviously been holding back then, she had to think while watching him from outside. He had to have let her seen him. He was too good, there was little way she would have won – or escaped – if he hadn't wanted it.

But back to the problem at hand. The gun she was supposed to train with.

It would sound stupid to anyone else but it was hard for the girl to trust it. It had been the elected weapon of most humans around her, the way they lorded power over everyone else. She could trust blades, they despised them. This was just different. Still, new place, new rules. Swallowing tightly, she raised the weapon to eye level, trying to target the center of the mark. Or just the mark itself, Kate highly doubted she would be able to shoot anything else other than herself.

Her finger pressed the trigger and the recoil nearly made her take a step back, not only because of the surprise. Above the target, a lamp exploded into several pieces accompanied by her wince. Maker, that would come out of her payroll. Wait. Did she even have one? Considering she had virtually been poisoned and, apparently, employed as a monster assassin, the least they could do was pay her something at the end of the month. Though, what would she buy and from whom was yet another little mystery. Her mind was firmly on that mental image – complete with a random human face _staring_ at her money like it would jump at its throat – when she fired again.

And missed. Again. Luckily the opposite wall had enough holes for one more to be noticed. What was wrong with the thing, she thought sullenly. It was pretty ridiculous to be beaten by a thing one tenth her size. Kate looked around, watching the different warriors, all attempting the same thing as her with much better results. She could even see Amell, hitting the bullseye every time. Not surprising, any staff was a long ranged weapon. It made her ego take what seemed a permanent vacation into nonexistence.

"You'll need to fa—" The sudden words didn't register, the closeness did, the hand which had suddenly dropped on her shoulder.

Before Kate could think about what she was doing, her body had turned around, throwing the pressure against her skin off, raising the gun in the direction of the voice. And waited. Unfortunately, her eyes took their sweet time to understand who she was facing. It was the only reason why the point of the gun rested against his nose, trembling lightly as her heart pushed blood quickly through her veins.

"I wager you won't miss if the target's this close," the Commander commented, his larger hand rising once more, this time to lay on the weapon's barrel. "Which would explain why I'm uncomfortable to have it shoved in my face."

He was joking. It sounded like one. Could he manage something as frivolous? Kate couldn't decide completely between surprise and amazement so she settled by lowering her hand slowly. Looking like she was threatening the man would look really bad to the rest of the hall of armed warriors. They might take it personally. And unlike her, they seemed to be able to use a gun for something other than self-harm.

His lips were twisted just the smallest hint at the corner but it was his eyes who gave him away. It was a joke. Andraste's flames, this place was one surprise after the other. Kate wasn't sure how to feel about not being a human's subject for jokes for once. It seemed… surreal.

Loghain's hand still rested on the gun, holding it as to stop her from lowering it further. "Other than that, you're a menace." And the break was officially over. How _nice_. Strangely correct too but Kate chose to ignore her more logical comment. "Who gave you this?" Her lips opened to speak but the Commander paid no mind to the attempt to utter a reply. He just pulled her hand upwards to its initial position, moving his hand to support her wrist. "You were leveling it wrongly. Tighten your grip or the recoil will destroy your initial aim. You need to have it secure."

It took her a little time to understand he was instructing her. All she could think of how close the human was. Her first reaction was wishing to pull away as fast as possible, place at least two feet between their bodies because disgust and fear of humans were intrinsic parts of her education. Loghain seemed to notice. A quick glance, a little more space between them even though his hand didn't move and kept holding hers carefully.

"Well," he said calmly, apparently disregarding her discomfort. "Feel free to follow my instructions. Unless you want to shoot your friend next."

_Bastard_.

"Did you say something?"

She shook her head quickly, focusing on her hands and the weapon she carried. The only thing worse than threatening the Commander – hers now, she supposed – would be to insult him to his face. Even if he deserved it. Even if she wanted nothing more than to shake his hand off and introduce him to the blunt piece of metal.

Loghain's eyes gave her what was clearly an appraising glance before turning once more to the target, his hand slowly directing hers to what he deemed to be the correct position. "As you wish." Aimed a little lower, then tightened, shaking it. "Put some force into it. Try again."

She pressed the trigger, bracing herself for the recoil. The bullet hit the very edge of the target. Her possible smile died before it could begin to form as Loghain's expression remained the same.

"Not good enough. Again," he ordered bluntly.

So she did, silence between them only broken by her steady attempts against the target – who Kate could bet to be mocking her loud enough to be seen from Denerim.

"Why do you use a gun and a sword?"

He seemed to be expecting that question. Stepping back, Loghain settled against the wall of the cubicle, only evidencing the fact that yes, he too carried both blade and firearm on his person. A longsword, a wickedly curved blade with an artistically designed pommel which destroyed little its practicality. There were no visible jewels but all of it was silver and tightly wound golden wire, the very tip terminating in a small globe. The handgun was a more modern version of the one she held, blunt as any other. "Darkspawn don't die immediately if you shoot them," he explained calmly, too calmly considering the subject. On the corner of her eye, she could see how his fingers had trailed to feel the pommel like assuring himself that it was still there. "The seconds they'll take to die can rip your arm, a sword can pierce you, arrows can still be shot. The sword is clean. Head off and they don't move. But the gun's useful to slow down incoming targets. You either learn both or you are good as useless."

Another shot smothered the repetitive wish to hit him. Useless? She had walked more in her twenty something years of life than most humans did on their entire lives. And she had done that defending herself without _guns_. The bullet hit the wall yet again.

"If I shoot you now, will everyone else kill me?" Kate avoided looking at him.

"That would require you to be able to hit me. Which I doubt."

He was too above her lowly mortal form so Loghain's face lacked the smirk which underlined every word. That was it. She was going to shoot him.

"I can take that as incentive," she informed, trying to mimic the stance he had guided her into.

"Commanding taught me it never hurts," his voice was definitely light, lacking any bite to it. His eyes never turned away from her grip. "And practice does miracles."

"Is that a hunch I'll get good at it?"

If there was any blunter way to say she had heard his little comment after the Joining, Kate really wouldn't know.

"I don't believe in miracles." That was an actual smirk now. Asshole. "Reload. There's no such thing as infinite ammo outside videogames." His uniform rustled as he let go of the wall. "I have matters to take care of. Try to hit the target by yourself before the end of the day." And all his tone of voice said _I doubt you'll manage but._ Bloody ass. Like all of his kind.

Frowning deeply, Kate aimed carefully one more time and pulled the trigger.

The bullet missed.

"Blast."

xxxXXXxxx

The mage kept watching the newcomer with shrewd eyes and an amusement Loghain had no explanation to. He didn't understand her. He didn't like her. He simply put up with her. It was necessary and Maker knew he always did whatever was necessary. Always.

"She's a cute kid. Still. A kid. So is that boy of hers." Azar's arms crossed over her chest languidly, hands wrapping around her elbows. "A lot to learn. When are you going to tell her that you've signed her death warrant? When someone else tells her? Because, my dear, you know what will happen then."

There were reasons. Reasons to bring the boy and the girl. Reasons to leave the coming month. And reasons not to trust this woman who looked even at him like he was a chess piece to be moved. Sometimes, Loghain did feel like throwing her out. If only it was possible.

"Kids grow up and get to fight like anyone else. It's the price we pay. Who I choose or not, isn't any of your business." Not even a Warden, Azar had no right to meddle.

"They're going to hate you."

"That's not new."

Azar showed him her knowing smile, one step below happy. "You'll kill a lot of them before the year's up." It was just like her. To use his values against him. To use all he feared as both blade and armor. Maker, he kept a wolf so close that the sheep's skin she covered herself in meant nothing anymore. "And It won't be enough."

His expression hardened, his fingers reaching out to grip her arm. Loghain pretended not to know the strength he was using. "That is fine." Voice low and sharp. Dangerous. "As long as, before this Blight's over, not only Wardens lay dead."

He wished her dead. Might make him despicable but he knew exactly how many daggers she would use against him if possible. That was the kind of woman Azar was. That was the kind of woman he needed for the moment.

Whatever was necessary.

_Always_.

"As long as I get to sing you to sleep, my dear boy."

Not for the first time, Loghain felt like the woman was making a promise instead of speaking platitudes. She wanted him dead and buried, where she wouldn't try to walk and stumble against him. He was just needed. The Commander of the Grey with a Blight at his door. And his unsaid promise mirrored hers. Keep while useful, discard when she became too dangerous. It wasn't time for it just yet.

He let her go.

xxxXXXxxx**  
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><p><strong>Author's note:<strong> _Still not very sure where I'm going with this but while I keep writing something, I'll keep posting. Thank you again for the comments and opinions, they truly make my day :)_

_In my defense, I never said Amell was a PC._


	5. Freedom Becomes Relative

xxxXXXxxx

**free-dom.** Liberty of the person from slavery, detention, or oppression; _to be free of restrains._

xxxXXXxxx

The following days found Kate back in the training facility barely after the sun had risen. Light sleeper as always, annoyed and frustrated as few times she had been, she nearly dragged Sam with her as soon as his eyes fluttered and he would stop complaining about her weird new habits. If asked, she would deny with all the teeth in her mouth that she wanted to prove anything to anyone bar herself. Amell could handle weapons without batting an eyelash. So could half the people which had filled the hall that day. There was no reason for her to think herself as incapable.

At least, the girl knew perfectly well she was acting like a spoiled brat. Nothing like understanding the blunt reality to face a new day.

And speaking of reality, both elves weren't completely sure about what was true or not, as to be expected. As soon as Sam had deemed himself properly rested – amongst much grumbling, snoring and a push out of bed when her patience had gone out the proverbial window – they had been transferred to a room of their own. It wasn't anything special when compared to the grand halls and odd hallways but it was comfortable. A simple white bedroom, two wooden beds, one vanity and the barest essentials to keep them dressed and decent. Other than that, it was hard to understand how things worked in the Complex.

People were mainly free to choose their own schedule. There was the mandatory training period and that had to be followed by every recruit and full-fledged Warden. The majority woke, stuffed themselves with enough food to keep a small army going for a week or so (something she had thought disgusting until she had found herself shoveling down three plates at breakfast) and would spend most of the day either fighting one another or guarding the precinct. Rare members would be found rebuilding or repairing the buildings, helping out on the fields or pouring through tomes much older than they could imagine.

The officials were the exception to the rule. Each and every one had a steady routine. Always at breakfast, they would walk between the tables and speak to small groups in hushed voices. Those chosen would leave and return only by nightfall. Kate had surmised they would perform something very similar to what the group which had found them was doing. Recon. Sensible for an organization which kept stepping on everyone's toes.

A week passed in this odd sort of trance until, as usual in their lives, things took a dive and turned upside down without bothering to deliver a warning. The Commander certainly didn't believe in them.

It would have been better if they weren't standing in the middle of the courtyard, she thought with a sigh. Kate fidgeted in her place, probably imagining the whispers and giggles which surrounded her, like the other Wardens were little more school girls. The sun was hot above their heads, filtered lightly by the glass ceiling which served only to increase the temperature of the space. She could feel the fabric of her suit cling uncomfortably to her clammy skin, beads of sweat slowly dripping down her face. How much time had it been, she wondered. There was a vague recollection of someone yelling her name, pushing her out of bed, _get dressed now, girl,_ just before she was pushed outside and into the field.

And she wasn't the only one. Sam stood right by her side, a hand crisped around his staff, a somewhat sleepy expression at odds with the flush of his paler skin. Beyond him, several mages, perhaps as much as a dozen between males and females, elves and humans. It was amazing to her how the Commander had managed to rip so many from the Circle with both Chantry and Government falling on him for subversion. It was likely she would have continued to entertain these thoughts – as anything else would remind her of stewing inside that thrice damned uniform – but Ogrhen saw fit to stop her, a sharp finger digging against her ribs every time she leaned too much or her eyes strayed somewhere they shouldn't.

"Would you min—"

That same finger was touched to his lips demanding silence. She would believe he was actually worried about the poor excuse for discipline she was showing if he wasn't grinning.

"Assignment time, runt," he informed blandly. "Got to keep quiet."

"You're talking," she commented rather unnecessarily.

Hypocrite didn't even bother to look at her, small eyes locked with the man speaking right in front of them. "I'm special."

Kate could think of a dozen different ways in which that sentence applied that didn't imply a compliment. The corner of her lips turned upwards, a little smile attempting to show without permission.

The man scowled at that. "Don't mimic the mage, brat. I got enough to deal with one pseudo-wiseass."

"Do you even know what pseudo means?"

Kate had no idea what drove her to banter with the human; only that it made the heat, the sunlight above her head so much easier to stand. The complaint was just at the tip of her tongue, ready to be shouted to the four winds. But no one else did so. They stood in silence, each line perfectly aligned, each person standing still and alert for the blond man's words whenever they were fit to be said. And she was drenched, dark tresses plastered to her forehead and neck, trying very hard not to sway in the direction of the dusty floor. Who knew _standing_ could be considered tiring?

"Brat, pay attention." Oghren's tone was suddenly different, more no-nonsense than he had used ever in her presence. "Tell your mage not to cast. If you can't handle this, you can't handle going out. And trust me, you'll want to get out of this place."

"What?"

Sam hadn't moved noticeably; the large staff in his hand had. It was a gigantic thing, easily bypassing the elf's stature, a wooden pole, carefully wrapped in leather to protect his hands. Right at the end a silver blade rested, sharp as sin. The whole instrument was slightly leaning towards her and, if Kate forced herself, she could almost taste Sam's magic already filtering the air. Rejuvenation, maybe? Healing, definitely.

That was all she could feel before she was pushed aside, Oghren firmly as a barrier between her and the other elf.

"You're a Warden, not some girl who can't handle a little sun." His dark eyes were slightly narrowed and, for the very first time, he seemed something more than a fool. "So suck it up, breathe slowly and look forward. Going to last a while still."

Last it did. Only Maric moved, speaking quietly to each and every member of the units, standing like oddly living statues. He would stop in front of the person, look at the notebook he held before saying something she couldn't grasp. A couple of questions followed, comments on the answers given and only then move along. It seemed more of a test than anything else – yet another, Maker, these people did enjoy them far too much.

She shuffled a little in her place, not resisting the urge to rub one sleeve against her forehead.

This was fine, it was much easier than running all over the place. Just wait and space out, noticing things. The woman – Azar, her mind added sluggishly – stood to a corner, straight hair framing her face, a staff on her back; oh, so she was a mage, was she? Four others next to her, all of them older, middle aged, maybe forty tops. What was with all these tests, she asked mentally to the older looking guy, tanned skin and grey hair, really nice looking. Human. Maker, what was with all the humans?

"Admiring?"

"Excuse me?"

Ogrhen managed to leer in a way which would make a whore blush and run for the hills. It wasn't a pretty sight. His head tilted lightly and pointed at the elder men, presumably the higher grade officials.

"Most people are into elves, kid. Little less uniform, little less clothing, get that hair down."

Common opinion, old as time and just as disgusting. Kate felt her body cringe at the mere thought, pushing away the sudden wish to push him further away from her. Some thoughts were still as scary as when they were on the run, that would never change. From the other side, Sam was already scowling, an expression at odds with his usual unruffled stance.

"I might just stab you." His tirade was delivered softly, as one stating something about the weather.

"Oh?" Never had a male threat been done in a sentence that small. "Before or after I get to watch?"

"Right now."

The staff accidentally stumbled, bashing against the human's head. Accidentally. Of course. The two elves exchanged a look and a smile, listening to the following complaints like they were a sweet humming. A soft _thank you_ was mumbled over the other's head and probably more would have been said – or done, Ogrhen did seem rather annoyed – had an interruption not presented itself.

"High Dragon! Get down!"

xxxXXXxxx

In true Complex manner, there was no time to understand who had screamed or what was going on. The words were still resounding in the air when they were drowned by a roar and an even louder crack against the cemented floor. The creature swooped down from nowhere, its large wings pushing people aside like they were nothing but dolls. A gigantic red body, covered in translucent dark scales which shone softly at the edges like they were little less than blades. The elf wasn't eager to see whether they were as sharp as they looked. In fact, there was little she could see in that moment.

As soon as the dragon had made its appearance, all the groups had dispersed, including her own. Kate found herself pushed against others, all falling to the floor in the disarray. Some were already crouching, a particularly stout human woman was already gripping a sword and shield.

She stumbled a little as she tried to do the same. Hard and even harder when she could barely see anything else than the gigantic creature. How had it managed to get into the precinct without warning? Weren't they supposed to have some warning against this kind of thing? Why was it _staring_?

"What are you doing, girl? Get moving!" The woman's companion – was that a _dwarf_? – grabbed her lower arm and pulled her to her feet, barely keeping her from falling all over again as he threw her back against another. He was already holding a large axe, golden like few jewels she had ever seen.

"Best way to start the day. Okay, we can do this," he drawled. "I'll draw her attention from the front."

"Her?"

The man looked at her like she was a particularly ignorant piece of mud on his shoes before ignoring her question all together. It was an unnerving glance, a tone of green too light to be pleasant to look at. All around them, small groups converged in a manner similar to theirs. The rest had already taken cover. Kate wondered briefly why, considering they were supposed to be warriors, and if she shouldn't follow. It wasn't like she had ever faced something like.

"…on the side. You, girl." Dwarf or not, the man was still tall enough to punch her shoulder, effectively snapping her from her little trance. "Get your toothpicks, hit the belly. Spread out."

And with that little advice, Kate felt herself being bodily pushed into the dragon's vicinity. Someone was casting, a wide spread fire spell and, in any other moment, she would have been amazed with the control it showed. What seemed like meteors crashed against the dragon and the earth but none of them touched the several people trying to keep it from destroying anything. So far they had failed. One car was virtually crushed into a pulp underneath its claws and one pavilion would need far more than a casual repair.

"Move, girl!" Again, the dwarf.

She had no idea what he thought she would be able to do with – as he had called them – her toothpicks. Sam would be far better at time. But Sam was in the fray, she could see him not even twenty meters away, brow furrowed deeply like when he was deeply focused on something. They never fought alone. Gripping all her attention with a vice grip, Kate joined the fray, trying to keep her attention on the dwarf's voice. If anything, he knew what he was doing.

Slipping into stealth, Kate tried to follow the command she had been given. The skin beneath the belly seemed soft, deceptively so, but it was definitely a more fragile target than any of the scaled surface. Unfortunately, the creature knew it. Even hidden in the shadows, surrounded by magic and shouts from what seemed everywhere, the dragon appeared to know where she was, her large snout sniffling deeply as the head swerved from side to side.

"Maker damnit, woman. Stab it!"

If there was a better way to call the dragon's attention to her, the elf would be hard pressed to find it. There was no time for it either. The dragon had turned and swept the area around with her tail, roaring so loud it was no wonder everyone attacking stopped for a moment, their eardrums practically shattering under the noise. Kate had tried to evade it; hadn't worked exactly how it was supposed to but it had avoided a full collision, replacing it with a clumsy tumble and some minor bruises as she became acquainted with the cemented floor.

It had pushed her closer. With a little grin – which was related to fear evolved into despair instead of actual satisfaction – she jumped forward, attempting to slash at the dwarf's intended target. Kate could see where he stood, his large axe methodically attempting to chip away the dragon's face. He seemed unafraid. Act or not, it was a little comforting. Sheathing one of the daggers, she raised the other with both hands and began to attack the strong skin. The damage was minimal, cumulative but minimal. She kept at it, dodging the large paws every time the shook, trying to dislodge the annoying ant that she was. It seemed to be annoyed that the fighters around kept it busy. That was just fine by her.

Of course, the creature wasn't stupid. Something kept attacking one of her frailer points, she was bound to notice at some point. Kate understood her time was running out when the dragon's paws began to stomp against the floor, making it necessary for her to keep changing positions, losing her balance and chance to keep injuring the creature. A little closer and it would have hit her legs, another twist and it was her upper body which was close to be smashed by the lower half of the creature. She couldn't continue like that.

Despairingly, Kate crouched to the floor and began to make her way out. The dwarf kept screaming but it wouldn't catch the dragon's attention for longer. With that in mind, she crawled from under the creature, slipping a little on the dark read ooze which kept dripping from the open injuries she had caused. Only the shadows couldn't hide her forever. The sunlight eventually filtered through even her stealth and Kate found herself being pushed aside as a snout came too close; close enough to breathe against her cheeks.

Dragons had amazingly dark eyes. Amazingly dangerous looking, especially when narrowed; that was the only detail the elf had time to retain.

This time, the target was too obvious for the creature to miss. Blood red scales filled her vision as a wing crashed against her and no attempt to avoid it was possible. She closed her eyes tight, groaning her body began to be pushed aside. The only reason why it didn't completely was her dagger, the small blade getting caught in something tough, a miraculous point of salvation. Kate gripped the weapon even harder which, in hindsight, could have been far worse than being thrown around.

Her body was pushed back, her arm forward, shoulder threatening to jump out of its socket. And in the middle of her own screams, there was this horrible ripping sound as her dagger slid down whatever it had been caught into. Water fell on her like some unexpected rain, coating her hair and skin, digging slowly into the fabric which covered her and almost ripping the dagger from her hand. All of that information hazed its way into her brain but didn't make a dent. In fact, if the world stopped spinning at any moment, she would be deadly grateful.

Out of nowhere, two hands steadied her, a strong grip accompanied by the female warrior's voice. "Steady now, girl. We're done."

"What?" Kate licked her lips absently and tasted something which reminded her strangely of bile. And iron. Definitely not water. "Did someone kill it?"

"No need to, the Dragon was a mage. Now stop struggling, you hit your head." That much had been gathered by the four dwarves trying to bite their way out of her skull. "Ripping a dragon's wing by complete accident, now that's just new" It was lucky indeed that her brain didn't allow a coherent though to be formed even with the aid of a guide. It allowed her not to accept the words '_the dragon was a mage_' as a figment of her imagination and focus on the woman's cool hands against her forehead, keeping her from bumbling away on her haze. "Oi, mage. Get over here, this one needs her head fixed."

Kate didn't open her eyes. It wasn't needed. It was Sam's hands that tugged her shoulder, his magic around her and his eyes right above her, a red eyebrow close to his hairline in an attitude that spoke of annoyance.

"It was another test." Her head twanged annoyingly at the words. "Took some time to understand that. That's why Oghren left the field and I'm betting you didn't see anyone bar recruits, did you?" She blinked confusedly, trying to focus on his words but, more specifically, on his face. He had been fighting from the back, no injury marred his skin and his robe remained as immaculate as ever. The fire, she thought, connecting the thoughts rather late, the fire spell which had been consistent throughout the would-be battle. That had been Sam. Made sense. He did like it a lot. His fingers rested on her forehead, drawing a pattern she didn't understand.

"It was another test?" Never to be said she couldn't grasp the obvious once explained. "Maker help us, do these people get off on this?

"No one could get off on you stumbling your way into stabbing a dragon, Tabris." It was a good thing she couldn't focus on Maric's face, the human appearing from virtually nowhere, the hint of a smirk giving him the air of a child whose prank had been successful. Sam's hands released her for a moment only to grasp her shoulders tightly; containing the wish to do something else. Something damaging. Probably pummel him to the ground, Kate would definitely approve. _The Makerforsaken idiot._

"Title's lieutenant," she found herself to be interrupted by the subject of her scrutiny, a brief glance spared if that much. In a split second, Kate could even see the flash of white teeth and the childish grin before it faded. "It sucks and it makes me sound like a prick but orders are orders, Commander's a stick in the mud so names for when we're all swimming in ale, yes? Good. Great. Moving along." The blond human tapped on his notebook distractedly, slipping the pen between his teeth on regular intervals. Maker, one needed a sharp mind and a lot of tolerance to keep up with this man. "You work best together, so let's just stick you in the same group. We don't coddle but if it works, why change? Less chance to get yourselves killed just after your Joining. And you do prefer to be together, right?"

For someone calling himself lieutenant, he was stupidly prone to verbal diarrhea. Whatever Maric said, clearly was rethoric as he continued to write furiously, barely sparing a look at the couple. How come they had been summoned if only to be talked to instead of talked with?

"Better to keep you with someone you know too. Boss'll get my hide if you wander off on my watch. The party you were found by? Keep by it. Familiar faces all around." Kate shared a look with Sam, watching as his momentary satisfaction faded like fog in a summer morning. It was to be expected, she wanted to believe, to be forced to deal with others. It made sense. Military wasn't supposed to pay attention to temper tantrums or prejudices and the Wardens were proving to be an incredibly organized forced for such a weird group. "We keep mixed groups just in case. Mages for large field clean up, warriors for close quarter combat. Yadda, yadda, basic stuff. I suggest you started trusting these people. Well done, children."

He took a deep breath, probably regaining strength for the next tirade.

"And we're done. Everyone dismissed and go do stuff. First and second groups, north. Third, Denerim. Forth, say hello to Lady Guerrin for me. Wait, no. She threatened to cut "

He was making her dizzy with all the wandering around he was doing. It was like his own body was against the idea of keeping still. Hers, however, had no such compulsion. Sam's hands stopped supporting her properly and she found herself sitting on the floor, staring up at the man like a naughty child in front of a teacher.

"Tell me you don't like him."

Sam scowled, bending to catch the staff he had dropped by her side at some point.

"I don't like anyone who knows more than I do and denies sharing it," he commented blandly. "Why would I like a puppeteer anyway?"

Sometimes, Kate was sure even she underestimated Sam. Wasn't that stupid?

"Come on." His hand patted her shoulder to call her attention before clasping her arm and pulling upwards. "You're covered in dragon blood. Or human blood, whatever the man turned into. Let's get away from this place."

xxxXXXxxx

As simple as that, they found themselves leaving the complex. The group wasn't too different of the one who had brought them in. Apparently, that one had been a rarity in its dimensions, too large to remain unnoticed even without they called the Taint added into the mixture. There was still the Commander and Maric, still Amell with his easygoing attitude, as if they weren't out on a hunt, still Vaughan, Maker knew why. Oghren had been added to the party though, having remained behind on the week before because 'Commander thought a blasted broken leg couldn't be healed properly by magic so got me Ines in fucking babysitting duty. Woman made me sponge bath myself.' A tall human girl which barely spoke and carried a uniform more armored than half the men. And finally, her and Sam.

It was different to walk with this group. Before, she had been mostly on the run. They tended to run through forests and, if possible, at night where discovery would be far harder. They also ran as much as possible in between points of population. Humans had no such issue. They didn't walk indolently but still, it was a pace that was easy to accompany. And the sun, bright above her head, the conversation which was a constant, the steady ringing of weapons and boots, everything was rather different. Not completely comfortable but not that bad.

They were going to Haven. Just the word was enough to send a well-known prickle of apprehension down her back. They were Wardens now, right? And even though she had no idea what it meant completely besides being, basically, a monster hunter, that did mean she was free of having to stay inside those walls. Kate had seen them once, in the past. She had been fourteen. Fifteen? She had been young and stupid enough to wander aimlessly. It was truly a wonder how she had managed to slip by unnoticed until escapees had found her. Suffice to say it hadn't been the most welcoming place in the world.

Only thing she didn't get on all this thing, she thought absently as she trailed after Maric's back – who had already accused her several times of staring a little too low and he was uncomfortable – was why they had to walk to Haven. Last time Kate had checked, there were more than enough means of transportation which would be preferable. And faster. Cheap people, what could one expect more? They wouldn't hear her complain.

And in such thoughts, she followed the leaders, dust and grass stepped on regularly as they began to leave the valley where the Compound was nested in.

"Tabris."

She had fallen behind the group without noticing, even behind the other elf who was focusing more on the path than on his friend. The Commander had seen it though. He stood in front of her in all his annoying impassive glory, actually stopped in the path instead of her slow pace.

"With me," he said simply, leaving no doubt that it was an order and he expected it to be followed. So much that, when he walked to the very edge of the cliff, he didn't bother to pause and see if she was walking behind him or not. He simply did so, waiting with crossed arms until she caught up. "You will need to memorize this path so you can eventually leave on scouting parties. After this, we will catch a truck and—"

"Wait. Wait, stop." He had told her before the only she needed to know was how to kill. Now he was giving geography lessons. What in the Maker's name? "Why are you letting us leave like this? And leave by myself? Without guards?"

Loghain was not like Maric. The words she told the other were taken like a joke and they didn't seem to matter. This man weighted each and every one. He looked at her as if she was deserving of his knowledge and found her lacking. It occurred to her it would be so easy to just push him, he was so close to the edge and a cliff rested beneath. No one would blame her. Well, no elf would blame her. Ever since meeting this man, she was walking on knives, constantly on her toes and never knowing where to run next. Kate couldn't forget the odd thought that their group had been the one to chase after her and Sam that night. Maybe they had waited until they were in danger to save them. It was possible.

"Because you'll eventually understand that leaving will change nothing," his voice was like a sentence, as certain and assured as when carrying a goblet with dark poison. "The Wardens are your refuge now. Check your life before, compare it to now," he commented, fingers lightly trailing over his sword's handle. "It is better than running. You have a job, you have a roof; all you have to do is follow my commands. And every time you leave, you will remember why this is better."

Cruel bastard.

His eyes turned to her, reminding her bluntly that speaking her mind was something she should curb from then on. "Yes. And I do what's necessary. But if you two learn, if you commit yourselves to this, I will keep you safe. And that will be the closest thing to freedom you will know. More than many humans can dare to dream of."

"Why do you say this to me?" Kate asked, swallowing the words _logical cruel bastard_ before they could be said. "Why not to Surana?"

"Because he is more afraid of what expects him than you," he said, as if the answer was obvious and she shouldn't have bothered to ask in the first place. "He cannot afford to be caught. You can. Whatever they do to you, you can attempt to forget. He'll leave only if you do."

He played with the Chantry, he messed around with the Royals and there was a hint as to how he managed, plain for Kate to see. Loghain was a Commander in the truest sense of the word. He knew how to use others. And to that, he had to understand the people he shackled.

Kate licked her dry lips, frowning in the direction of what she was supposed to take as her future home. "So you are asking me to trust you?"

"No. I don't believe in miracles." A gun in her hands, his attitude in almost mocking and a week before in the Training Grounds. She briefly wondered if he remembered that hour or it was as inconsequential as her acceptance into becoming a Warden. "I'm asking you, as a normal and rational person to weight your options and chose the best."

"Couldn't you get someone else? I'm pretty sure there are more elves, Fade, more humans to do your binding."

Way to remind him that she was expendable.

Loghain stopped looking at the cliff bellow and his eyes were hard as silver and twice as difficult to read against hers. Kate had an urge to take a step back as if she had just stumbled into unknown territory. Enemy territory.

"Yes. I could."

The conversation was over with those three words. He wouldn't reply to anything else and she couldn't force herself to ask anything else. In her mind, a woman was laughing, loud and clear, like a ghost in plain daylight. She also seemed to have coal colored hair and a smile better belonging in feline features.

A shiver crossed her from top to bottom, making her hug her waist despite the warm uniform.

xxxXXXxxx

Sam hadn't spoken his mind completely since the so-called capture. There were stolen moments he would direct to Kate, some reflection to himself in whispers but nothing else. The time wasn't right. He watched, he learned, he cherished the tiniest sliver of freedom while planning ahead. It was why he didn't comment the oddities he had been noticing. Yes, he was a mage. Yes, he knew a little more than most in the run and out of the Circle. Maybe even in the Circle since those eventually ended Tranquil before they could bring harm to a country which feared and hated the mere thought of their existence. He just didn't understand why the conscription of two alley cats.

While Kate slept, wrapped tightly in her bedroll, he remained awake and vice-versa. He'd keep her and himself from trusting as much as possible; thinking and observing others.

The night was late when their peace was broken.

"Commander?" Sam blinked in the darkness, trying to focus on the man who couldn't be anyone else bar their Commander. Too tall, too broad, the large curved sword which almost begged to be used. Kate's voice was barely above a murmur "Is something the matter?"

"You need to practice."

Unseen, Sam frowned, trying to discern his friend's reaction, the dark shadow moving as she sat.

"It's not even daybreak!"

"No," he agreed amiable, almost pleased that she had noticed it was pitch black above their small camp. "It's not."

Kate stared at up where, supposedly should be his face with an expression that clearly said he couldn't be serious. He just couldn't. They were cold and wet from the drizzle, uniform belts were stuck uncomfortably – and painfully – against his skin and she had barely slept what? Two hours? He couldn't be serious. She would shoot herself if she attempted to train while seeing double.

"Today, Warden."

He was. At least that was what it seemed, as his form went nowhere, standing above her like some mismatched guardian spirit. Only the Commander wasn't one. He was just an idiot.

"Be right back, Sam." She had noticed. Her fingers touched his hair, trailing gently as she rose. Closer then, he could see her features, resigned but unworried.

Why were they bothering? Why them, why then, why?

Sam pushed himself back into his bedroll and made no comment whatsoever, watching as Kate stumbled her way into the other side of the camp, a longsword pushed into her hands instead of the usual dagger; no complaints because the sleep was patent in each step and gesture. He would understand eventually. He just had to pay attention and understand.

And he would get just why these players were so keen on having them as pieces.

xxxXXXxxx

* * *

><p>AN - <em>All right, the next one begins to drop more odd clues and weird characters, I promise. This is mostly filler and a little of what the Wardens have become~ I'll try harder to bring a proper - and hopefully better - chapter soon. The one who gets the How to Train Your Dragon reference gets a cookie.<em>

_Before I forget, ChampionTheWonderSnail did this lovely drawing of Tabris. http : / / experimentalgerbil . deviantart . com / # / d4e3f7d :) Needs to be shared.  
><em>

_Thank you ever so much to all who reviewed: Josie Lange, Shakespira, Roxfox1962, Enaid Aderyn, ChampionTheWonderSnail and Judy. _


	6. Two Steps Forward, One Back

xxxXXXxxx

**chal·lenge.** An act or statement of defiance; _to demand explanations_

xxxXXXxxx

"What I'm saying is that, you can't exactly blame a child for being born with the blood its parents gave it. It's like blaming the earth for receiving sunlight."

Walking was better, Kate had decided. It made you stronger, tougher, able to manage much more than in the beginning of the journey. It also made some people too out of breath to argue, something which didn't happen when in the back of a truck. In this situation, sandwiched between Ogrhen and Sam, she was forced to hear and participate in fanciful chitchat. But, worse of it all, was what her own companion was subjecting her to for the past three hours and forty two minutes. Twenty seven seconds. He and Cullen, who was getting along with the elf frighteningly well. At least on a more rational level.

Maker keep her from mages engaging philosophical debates. The Chant of Light should carry warnings against such a thing. In between the warnings about how one shouldn't let mages live as normal living beings, of course.

"Is he always like that?"

Oghren looked faintly like a kid forced into a convention of advanced mathematics and almost as interested. Kate's features displayed a boredom only showed when stuck in caverns for weeks to no end with nothing to do bar gathering food. All in all, they were presenting the exact same feeling. "If he was," she mumbled into a closed fist. "I would have released him into the wild before it contaminated me. Yours?"

"I throw him food when he tries. Warden Instincts kick in while I flee."

"Warden Instincts?" Kate parroted. "Fight or flight?"

"Eat while food's on the table," he clarified.

Both mages gave their respective partners looks which were all of disappointed parents facing unruly children.

Four hours had closely gone by since they had been loaded into the truck. Four hours in which the small group had been crammed into a space even smaller, forced into an uncomfortable silence and more contact than it should be necessary. At least, that was Kate's opinion. There had to be a reason for Maric's little smirk before he left to the front seats with the Commander. Not that he needed reasons. The man was permanently amused, the world itself a giant circus in his eyes.

"It would do you good to participate," Sam attempted, probably knowing it was as useless as the many times he had attempted to speak these things with her. It wasn't that the subject was boring, not completely. It was just extremely useless to force a convert to hear the same things over and over and _over_ again.

"Surana, I've heard your arguments close to seven hundred times. I can recite them on my deathbed. I can sing them to a child and have it pass out from sheer tedium. Besides, you two _agree_ with each other." Hence, why were they arguing? It was like a priest speaking to another about the merits of the Chant of Light and receiving solely _yes, you are completely right_ as a response.

"Got the point. And you?"

"I keep my masochism to half the population and you lack the equipment for it. Come on, runt. We can leave them to it."

Come on? To go where? Kate raised an eyebrow as the man stood up and walked on the uneven floor till the very back of the open space. Anything would be better than sitting between the two mages again. With the same agility he had displayed the day she first met him, Oghren jumped on the door, holding himself to the side of the truck before gripping the ceiling and hoisting himself upwards. A small lump on the fabric ceiling indicated that he was sitting on it, apparently uncaring of the fact that it was the ceiling of a moving vehicle. She hesitated a little but the sight of the land they left behind and the strong sunlight quickly decided her. More slowly than the man, definitely more carefully, she wiggled her way forward and then up.

It was a whole new level of different for her. The sun was shining like summer was still in full strength, warm and inviting on her skin.

"First time I've seen you smile. Well, when there's no one else in pain around, that is." The human patted a place nearby, looking to all the world as comfortable as a Lord in its throne room. "Sit down. Boss'd have my hide if you just floated away." A nearby branch underlined his suggestion and soon enough elf and human were sitting side by side, silent as trees seemed to fly by right above their heads. It was more comfortable than the inside of the truck, that was a certainty. Not even because of the discussion. Amell and Sam were easy to stand, their voices more like mantras for a child to sleep than anything else. Oghren, in this mist of his annoying self, wasn't impossible to stand.

Vaughan was another matter completely. While the human girl who had come with them was mostly silent, his type of quiet made her wish to draw into herself and unsheathe a blade. Narrowed eyes, closed fists, whenever their glances meet, it was like a silent threat. And Kate wasn't keen on having to share her space with a poisonous snake ready to strike.

"It won't go away that way."

Oghren wasn't looking at her but frankly, to whom would he be speaking? No one else was with them after all. He pointed to her hand, resting against her neck as she steadily scratched it at random intervals. She hadn't even noticed she was doing it which lead to the suspicious question of why he was interested in something as stupid.

He had a talent for unsaid questions, it seemed. "Some people shiver, some get migraines, others feel like they're on fire. It varies." Moving slowly across the space, his hand encompassed a small area through the branches, a little lake, she managed to see, a set of rocks which piled until they disappeared into the green shade. "I'd say it's a small group, round twenty, maybe less. We got a group in the area otherwise we'd have to stop and clean up the tracks."

Kate scratched her neck again, attempting to connect the dots. It was like the weather was suddenly colder, nevermind the rays of sunlight pouring down on her.

"Don't get it."

"Remember when we found you? The creatures." Snarling, biting, dragging her away until someone crossed her path and blood fell on the floor like some ghastly kind of rain. "There you go. Memorize, get used to it. It might save your life when you're stuck with patrol." Kate briefly wondered if all the people who called themselves Wardens were chosen by their ability to either keep secrets or make no sense whatsoever when they did choose to talk. Her nails stopped digging into her skin as she closed her eyes. There it was, laying right beneath her fingers. It was half an itch, half a shiver, running underneath skin like the feeling was liquid and flowing freely in her blood.

"Look," he interrupted, taking her thoughts from his odd words. "If I tell you my sad sob story will you stop acting like an alley cat the boss brought home?"

"Depends," she retorted absently. "Do you even have a sad sob story?"

His mouth opened, closed then opened again with an almost sheepish grin. "Not really."

"Then no."

She was pretty damn sure he had mumbled something like _stubborn bitch_ but let it pass. The truck was still moving steadily and this peculiar sort of teasing they had going was the direct opposite of Sam's conversation downstairs. At least it was entertaining. Smiling to herself, Kate crouched to the floor and made her way forwards, just above the cabin where the driver shared its space with both Loghain and Maric. She could even see a little of the blond hair outside the window, whispering in the wind as the man leaned outside like some overgrown dog.

Weird thoughts were running rampant that morning. Galloping even.

Her smile evolved into a small grin as she gripped the several strips of rubber keeping the ceiling in its place, securing herself properly in her new place. In front of her, the road continued until what seemed to be the horizon, serpent like forms weaving in and out of the forest. It widened a little before dividing itself. A small house rested to the side. All in all, a simple image, a nature like image thoroughly at odds with most of the memories Kate still kept from her own city home. It was different and that wasn't so bad. None of her situation seemed like so in that moment, not with the warm air and light filling her lungs.

"Oghren?"

Leaves beat against her face as she straightened, the man's presence heavy at her back while he simply lay down. Like they were resting on the floor after a picnic. Crazy man.

"What?" He grunted.

"Tell me about the Compound. Tell me about the Wardens. And I'll try."

There was a long pause after her words, broken only by the rustling of leaves, the noisy engine beneath them and the lull of the voices which still persisted from the open truck. And that same pause made her wonder why the human seemed more hesitant to speak of the Order than he had seemed about speaking of his own life. But the promise was there, unsaid, a simple suggestion of leaving her own prejudice – or her fear, if she wanted to be honest – aside and focus on something else. Something like a connection between two beings and not the fact that he was the member of a race which hated the very skin covering her bones.

Ogrhen shifted a little, a sound which was just like a sigh; exasperated, she dared to guess. Then he began to speak as she made herself as comfortable as the present situation allowed and lost herself in words about dragons and a sin as old as time.

xxxXXXxxx

The night was coming on steady intervals. On their perch, Kate could see as the sun sank behind the mountains, the orange glow lighting the horizon before it started to darken in an almost poetic fashion. The truck's lights were turned on, the speed of the vehicle decreased and the air itself began to grow colder and lighter. Oghren had gone silent a long time before, snoring loudly behind her, tied carefully by his own volition to the same rubber belts that she had been using to steady herself. It was a normal event for him to do to so, she had concluded.

"Tabris. Little attention here. But please, don't fall, car cleaning services don't include elf remains." Of course, to ask for peace next to these people would be just ridiculous. Added note to Maric's personality. He was an asshole. "You sure we should leave Oghren to mess up with the new ones?" She opened her mouth to ask what in the world did he mean but it downed that there was little way those words for her. Her assumption was proven right barely a moment after. "Right. Sure. Whatever you say, boss."

Kate stretched her legs slowly, trying to get rid of the pricks and needles which were flooding her numb muscles before, carefully, making her way even more forward, leaning against the portion where the rubber ceiling met the cabin. The lieutenant had his head out, looking straight up while waiting for her to reply.

"What?" She asked simply. The blood rushed to her head as she leaned even further, probably a silly move. But she was on an uncommonly good mood and thoughtless things could happen for once.

"While you're playing bird, try to look forward and right. I think there's something but." A small pause as he tried to cover his eyes from the last touches of sunlight. "Can't see from here. We shouldn't be close enough for. Huh? Wait a second, Tabris."

She could definitely just hang on while he decided.

"There you go." A hand reached outside, passing her a pair of binoculars as the truck slowed down to an almost crawl, possibly to allow her a better balance. It was like standing on a boat tied to shore. "Boss says, describe what you're seeing and don't pay attention to me as I'm in one of my womanly moods. Womanly? Really?"

Not paying attention to him was strangely easy. Fiddling a little with the object – not something she had been privy to use – she glued her eyes to the lenses, trying to see whatever they were expecting. Two trucks, black, no descriptive signs, unmoving in the middle of the road, just where it touched a small river. With a little effort she managed to identify two men walking nearby, gesturing wildly like they were in a frighteningly animated conversation.

"And they're carrying weapons," Kate eventually finished, relaying the last details she could discern. "Guns. Can't see blades but then again, they are rather far. Silver and green. Green." Ah, Fade damnit.

"Templars," Loghain's voice concluded from beneath her. Oddly, not that pleased. "Get inside, both of you. This means a search. And Tabris, don't run. It's unnecessary."

She had already turned faintly to the side, eyes widened as she prepared to jump, lips about to open in a shout for Sam. Little over a week would never be enough to make her forget years fearing those same uniforms. But the Commander had probably known. Kate struggled to calm down, breathing deeply for a moment, fingers closing and opening in a repetitive motion. Simple but it kept her focus on something other than irrational instincts. But it was Oghren who did the rest, snoring loud enough to wake the dead, never mind her from her destructive patter of thought.

Fine. That'd be her test to the Wardens. More dangerous to herself than them – not unlike her little stunt with the dragon – but a test nevertheless. If they kept her and Sam safe, if they managed to keep them free, then she would start to believe. Mind made up, Kate turned aside, shaking Oghren's shoulder to wake him up before lowering herself back into the stuffy compartment.

"We heard," was Sam's sole comment, already close to the back as if containing himself not to jump out and away. They were officially wild cats. The others didn't seem to be that concerned. Sure, Vaughan had little to fear from the Templars but he seemed amused, maybe even pleased. Amell was relaxed as always and Kate could really read nothing in the female human's face, still set in silence on her corner. Kate mimicked her, falling right by the elf's side, the binoculars resting on her lap as the car kept eating their path away.

It was probably over half an hour until they reached the barricade but it seemed far more time. The truck stopped, the front doors opened as the occupants left. Kate found herself covering her ears in somewhat nervous movements, her hair tangling uncomfortably between her fingers. She needed to cut it, she thought rather stupidly, maybe take to get it up so it'd stay out of her way. "Ouch." Her hands rushed to one of her pointed ears instead as the skin suddenly began to hurt.

Sam had flicked it, his hand still in the air, the most deadpan expression taking over his face.

"That hurts," she informed bluntly, trying not to whine and keep the rest of her dignity somewhat intact.

"So does ripping your hair out."

Oghren raised a hand.

"I will smite you where you stand." And lowered it as soon as Cullen wrapped his around his staff's handle, fingers trailing ever so lightly on the leather.

Quite frankly, Kate couldn't see how anyone could take this group seriously. The members themselves didn't. Trying to stifle her amusement – which could probably be identified as hysteria if she allowed herself to acknowledge it – the elf settled back against Sam, watching as he also kept a hand close to his weapon, identifying himself more clearly than his ears could have done for him. A few more minutes rolled by lazily, their silence broken solely by the forest around them, the lull of the lake water and Loghain's voice above it all. It interchanged with another one, higher sounding, younger and vaguely less pleasing.

She didn't need to know the Commander well to know he wasn't pleased. It was obvious in the short tones, the clipped answers, a fool would be able to understand it. But it didn't become as clear as when the panel covering the back of the truck was pushed aside, showing the two persons she had been spying before. They weren't what she would deem old, dark skinned and with no wrinkles that she could see. Both males dressed in the same manner, silver grey slacks and shirt, a dark green vest covering the top and boots which were basic military issue. On the right side of the vest, a small symbol had been stitched, a silver sword surrounded by dark red flames. Yes, the Sword of Mercy in all its glory. A good symbol, perfect to keep people silent and the herd controlled. The comment was swallowed before it could be said and placed the entire group in worse situation than it already was.

And considering the Commander was currently carrying two elves and two mages, one of which overlapped nicely, Kate could only wonder just how bad things were.

"As I've said, soldier." If that wasn't underlining the difference in rank between Commander and Templar, she didn't know what it was. "A group of Wardens bound for the South. All passed through the Joining, all are legal. As you should know since the last time I went through here, you also saw fit to stop us in the exact same manner."

That would explain the annoyance. Loghain was treating this as a minor setback, something as simple as a fly in his soup and just as easily reparable. It didn't mean that it didn't feel like pure lack of respect. As little as she knew about the Wardens, they seemed to have high rank and the questioning this man was demanding of them? It sounded demeaning.

"You carry two new ones," the Templar attempted, apparently using them as an excuse when he had yet to see them until that moment. "Two elves." His gaze leveled with hers and then behind where Sam was sure to be looking, halting at some point to stare at their ears. "Have they been catalogued and if so, where and when? And what of companions? Maker knows these always travel in packs. Usually, where you find one, you find half a dozen in the shadows."

Sam's hand gripped her wrist with a strength that was almost enough to break her bones. He didn't notice and she said nothing. This was the kind of people she hated, they hated more than anything. Catalogued like meat on a store, packs because they were nothing more than ruminants in the fields. A small part of her almost propelled her forward. With some luck she would manage to hit the bastard with something heavy.

"Are you, by any chance, just curious really, implicating that the Commander of the Grey doesn't follow royal orders?" Maric wrapped an arm around the man's shoulders in what seemed to be a completely innocent gesture. If his face was that close to hers, Kate was sure it wouldn't be just for mere random affection to a stranger. There had to be a dagger involved somewhere. "Or the Chantry's? Because hiding escapees of the crown, well, that'd be just downright that alley. Hey, Commander? How come you didn't tell me you were playing rebel?"

"Because you would be too excited and attempt to take over a small country," Cullen supplied from his end.

"True that. I'm partial to Antiva."

"Or because the idea is ludicrous," the Commander intervened before the conversation degenerated further. "I am a Warden. My task is to gather as many able men and women to our task. You would agree with me on this, Ser?" That didn't feel like a question. And yet, he waited patiently until the Templar stopped looking at the group and faced him instead. There was something in his expression; it scared and kept others listening even when they felt like walking away slowly. His head lowered the faintest trace, almost as if he was honoring the other man and yet, his lips were turned just barely; she could see it from her vantage point. That small gesture implied anything but respect.

Like a wolf playing around with his food.

"Unfortunately, it means that I cannot follow the edicts as well as one would expect," he continued, almost blandly. "It also means I will make use of any tool the Maker places in my path. Now, if they are able or not, you are free to test them. I am sure either will be most obliging."

There was a quick exchange between elves and mage. Cullen smiled. Sam, she was sure he wasn't far; she could hear his small snicker right by her ear. Almost as if each of them was saying _pick me, pick me_, while mentally waving like madmen, herself included. The Templar didn't pale nor shown any sign of discomfort. If she was in his place, she surely would have. Which lead to two obvious conclusions; he was either stupid or oblivious.

"Perhaps that won't be necessary," the man finally said once it seemed Cullen was just about to jump out. Logic or self-preservation instinct, one of them had reared its head. Luckily for the man. Kate was sure she wouldn't be able to harm him but the human mage was too assured to have that compulsion. She could almost believe he would and could take that life without worry. First time he wasn't welcoming or bashful after his confrontation with Vaughan. It was true. Mages and elves cultivated their hatred of Templars as steadily as they breathed. "I still need their identification though."

No, he didn't.

Her mouth opened to say just how that wouldn't happen when Sam's hand slipped over her lips with little to no care. But he knew. Names weren't said. With names, they could get to families and families of a fugitive weren't going to rise in status, that was a certainty. Kate searched for his eyes in her awkward position but the elf wasn't looking at her. His gaze was unwavering on the Commander's form. Someone who seemed to lose what little patience he had left right then. In the time she had been silenced, he took a hold of the man's sleeve, pushing him away from Maric and just a little away. Not enough to keep his words private.

"Who sent you here?" Wait, what did that…? "I got the patrol roster for the week from Ser Matthew. None of them was scheduled here, especially not one above a dozen people. I want to know what's going on here."

The man released himself forcibly, blushing deeply like a young boy caught knee deep in a cookie jar.

"Busted," Maric whispered, leaning against the side of the truck, arms crossed over his chest as if he had no concern in the world.

"I am not at liberty to say," were the only words spoken by the silver clad man.

The Commander leaned in just barely and all play vanished into thin air. Their faces were close, their breaths mingling and hands were free to go for weapons if required. It seemed to be required. What sort of game were these people playing? "If I say I don't care?"

Templar or not, it was complicated to face a dangerous man with cool demeanor. The Templar paled and took a step back. "I cannot say, Warden-Commander." A small swallow, a bead of sweat dripped on his face slowly, measuring the time it took for him to ignore the pressure of the Commander's gaze. "I don't know. I swear I don't!"

That gaze was kept on him for one more long excruciating moment. And then another for good measure. "Not high enough in the food chain." Loghain rested his forehead against his hand for a moment, finishing the movement with pressure against his temple, as if the simple gesture would give the situation the slightest piece of logic. Kate didn't understand what was happening but one thing was for sure. The Templar hadn't known there would be mages in the truck, much less elves. He had been there to catch the Wardens, not fugitives. If this was clear to her who understood little of what was going on, it had to be completely transparent for the Commander.

The man stepped back from the other's personal space, looking every inch like a sensible person. "Alright, I will compromise," he started calmly. "I believe it would be best for all to continue to our previous objectives. When you reach the city, you are sure to find all the information you desire about my Wardens. And to your mystery employee, I have a couple of words than can be said. That way, you won't get in trouble. Would this suffice?"

Loghain, in all his serene manner, was offering the solution better to himself while posing it as a gift to the other. Even his expression, just short of being paternal, reflected this. Maker, the guy had some nerve.

"Misinformation. I like." Again, the lieutenant, blue eyes crinkling into an amused expression.

"Finally, Ser," Loghain continued softly. "You will tell the Mother I tire of her little games. The next time you step in my path, I will conscript you. And whoever you bring with you. I am not her dog to keep track of." Ah, there was the Commander who had conscripted her, down to the bland expression and sheer lack of emotion behind each word. Just pure and undiluted certainty.

"And you top it off with a nice little threat. Guy was made for this."

"Don't narrate me, Maric."

The lieutenant slapped his back in a sympathetic gesture before virtually taking the burden from his friend's shoulders – because they did act like friends instead of subordinate and Commander. Again he placed his arm around the Templar and began dragging him away, presumable to force-feed him whatever foolishness that passed through his lips.

"Spoilsport."

"Idiot."

The insults carried no weight.

"This is already past ridiculous." Loghain allowed himself a small sigh, hand ruffling long hair in an absent movement as he watched the two men. He spoke to all of them and none in special, probably knowing they needed to know something about the situation just in case. "Last two times was about Amell, the one before over Mahariel. If this isn't stopped soon, I will have to get the First Warden to cover up the tracks."

He didn't seem pleased with that perspective for whatever he didn't see fit to share.

Kate only noticed Vaughan had moved until he was right above her, so focused she had been in the little scene. Involuntarily, she pulled herself backwards even further against Sam. He paid no attention to her but it wasn't needed, she thought, nose wrinkling in distaste. It was weird but she just couldn't help but to distrust him; not even granting him the smallest piece she gave to Oghren or Amell. Even her body agreed, moving without her attention just to avoid him. The large human jumped out and began working at the latches that held the door upwards. Night had come and the camp had to be set up.

"This will continue to happen if you persist in adding these people to our ranks. Commander," he commented briefly, not meeting Loghain's chilled glance at the end of his words.

Tension filled the clearing again, one of a different kind. It sounded like a challenge. The five still inside the truck held their breath at the same time, alternating between looking at Loghain and their would-be companion. But Kate was the closest, sitting right by the door and it was Kate who heard it. She raised her eyes to the Commander's, noticing how his expression barely changed, hard eyes, hard features, a tense hand gripping the metal door with a strength that would rivaled Sam's against her bones. He seemed burdened. Deeply so. Not visibly but the worry was there, in the tense way in which he frowned. Their eyes met by pure chance and her head tilted to the side.

Just why was he bothered because of this man? She had reasons to be, he was repulsive. But him? The Commander was far stronger.

_Idiot. _

The pressure against the metal lightened.

"I wonder if you don't want to rise in ranks," Loghain commented blandly. "Because it will persist in not happening if you keep challenging my decisions."

And the tension vanished into thin air.

Kate wondered briefly why in the world she smothered a smug smile.

xxxXXXxxx

"See?"

Wardens didn't have to sleep under the clouds, not per se. Though, in that moment, Kate was ruing that little fact since the stupid tent refused to stay up, no matter how much time and effort she lost on it. She was also contemplating calling either Sam or Cullen to cast a nice fireball somewhere in its vicinity and sleep solely on the blankets she carried. Or the truck, which would be a nice replacement to the cursed thing. Loghain, quite wisely, waited until she had finished struggling with yet another rope before interrupting. His uniform had been replaced by casual clothing, a simple brown shirt and black pants, stained with the same water which dripped from his black hair.

The girl raised an eyebrow, taking the presence as a perfect excuse for a small break.

"I fulfilled my promise," the Commander elaborated, trying in vain to dry his soaked hair with an already painfully drenched towel.

He looked a little like a drowned rat, not at all his usual self.

"For now," Kate couldn't help adding.

"For now," he agreed agreeably. "Is it good enough?"

The Templars had come and gone and she had no shackles on her wrists. She had been right in front of them, she had tried facing them even, something she wasn't supposed to do and still, she had been protected. Never mind the fact that the Wardens weren't a completely impregnable refuge, they had been enough to keep her safe. To keep Sam safe. Human or not, Loghain had kept his word.

"For now. Yes."

Kate knelt on the floor, reaching for the next set of supports in order to restart her previous activity. For a long moment, all she heard was the forest around her, the soft sounds of her work and Oghren's loud laughter as Cullen spoke. It was so quiet that she almost thought the man had left her to the task.

"Maybe I should review the idea of making you a Warden." The towel continued its painstaking slow process. "You seem to be losing to a piece of camping equipment."

No such luck.

xxxXXXxxx

"You haven't told them yet."

The remaining female of the group tended to keep apart. She barely spoke and didn't like mingling, never mind how many times Oghren pulled and Cullen attempted to speak. Tabris reacted like an alley cat thrown into water but this woman… Loghain's eyes narrowed faintly, barely directing her a look as the woman sat by his side, awkwardly, as if the uniform didn't fit quite right. Her attitude, however, her words, those carried certainty and even defiance.

No rest was allowed to him that night, Maker help him. From the Templars to Vaughan and now this.

"What do you mean?" The words left him slowly, against his will. Truly, the Commander couldn't really care what she wanted and his patience to deal with her was steadily decreasing, just as his ability to keep the touches of flu at bay. But. One didn't throw away allies those days.

She moved just barely, crossing her legs only to rest her arms on them. Carefully, like they weren't in the middle of a forest, possibly loaded with enemies. "The new ones. I saw the Joining, Loghain. Neither of them knows what a Warden is supposed to do. The restrictions they have. Their time limit."

The hardest part of being a Commander, she meant. No other took that task from him, he didn't allow it. But watching as the two elves slowly understood he wasn't just using them but actually giving something in return. Safety. A life which wasn't spent on the run but chasing. Loghain wanted that relative peace a while longer, if only for a couple more days. To tell someone that he had all but killed them to their face…

"Do not meddle where you're not supposed to, Guerrin." He liked her. Sometimes. Not when she left her own turf and meddled in his. And the Wardens were his, no doubt there. "You're not their Harhen."

"But I am _a_ Harhen," the woman stated confidently, touching his arm so he would face her, not the camp where the Wardens dined. "And any elf in Ferelden is taken to my care or Theirin's. If you don't take up the mantle, I will. And I'll keep them both in Haven if necessary."

It was an empty threat. Not even she had the authority to break a conscription, especially when it had been carried out. Still, the woman held his gaze in silence, stone against stone. She was right; not that he would tell her so.

"Huh. Loghain? Fiona?" Maric walked closer, right timing as always. In his open manner, Loghain could sense some worry. "You guys not killing each other and everything?"

He didn't need to look at Fiona to know her expression was exactly like his. Polite blankness and not a tone of anger. Their conversation didn't need to be shared.

"No, Maric," she said for him. "We're just fine."

Just to be pondered upon.

xxxXXXxxx

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><p><em>AN - Okay! Slightly more light-hearted at some points but I had a lot of fun writing it. Tell me what you think, yes? :)<em>

_Thank you ever so much to all who reviewed: Josie Lange, Shakespira, Roxfox1962, Enaid Aderyn, ChampionTheWonderSnail and Judy._ _Helps a lot to defeat the little b**** I call writer's block._


	7. Of Different Types of Bonding

**xxxXXXxxx**

**frus-tra-tion.** feeling of dissatisfaction, accompanied by anxiety or depression; _to have unresolved issues  
><em>

**xxxXXXxxx**

She was too easily distracted. Kate crouched deeply when the next creature came at her, sword arm in front of her, the large blade it held too close to her skin. What a stupid mistake, she thought vaguely, trying to push it away before the darkspawn had a chance to push it against her. Ever since she had replaced her daggers with the longsword, the Commander had beaten it into her the notion that she now used a double-bladed sword. And what cut forward, also cut back. The darkspawn did no such mistake.

Instead of trying to win him in strength, Kate allowed their blades to touch before twisting her arm, sliding her opponent's blade well to the side while she jumped to a straight position. Instinctively, she twisted in her place before bringing her sword against its neck. Where others make it seem graceful, she had the distinct impression she seemed like a butcher wielding a cleaver.

"Heads down, brat."

Around Oghren, that was an order, not a request. There was a grand total of two seconds for her to pull away, out of the way of the axe the man favored. He smiled while he fought. He also sang, appearing to be enjoying himself thoroughly while cutting others apart. Kate grimaced as his loud laughter echoed above the battleground, caring little for blood that ran down his face and, occasionally, would slip through his lips.

This sort of event had become usual. Loghain had soon taught them that he took his task as a Warden very seriously. Extremely so. The only thing that could be considered superfluous in the way they had been living was the odd conversation exchanged or the discussion which would be started at some point. Everything else was practical. Training, travelling, hunting, those were tasks which had to be performed every day without fault. And then, of course, there was the actual fighting. Three days had passed before they were faced with the same creatures which had attacked the two elves so little time before. The strategy was simple. Kill everything that moved as quickly as possible.

This meant following the Commander and Maric into the fray, avoiding both longsword and greatsword as they moved around. They were the obvious targets. Herself – and Oghren – slipped in and out shadows, clearing targets when possible but, otherwise, keeping out of immediate danger. The way they did this, so analytically, so calmly, it made the actual act slightly less traumatic than it should be. It was a chance to attack those things which plagued her sleep at night before they could get them. It wasn't easy but it was bearable.

Kate sighed as her breathing returned to normal, sweat slowly cooling on her skin against the night air. Next to the others, she was out of breath, apparently out of shape and filthy. The first she blamed on the lack of experience with a longer blade, the second to a truck which was making her probably too complacent. The last… she looked down at the mud covering her legs and hands, result of throwing herself to the floor in avoidance of the many blades sent her way. Nothing new.

"And we're done!" Cullen was the closest to her, a loud sigh marking his presence. He looked at her up and down before favoring her with a small smile. "You look a mess."

"And you look." Pristine. Or the closest thing to it. Unlike Sam who was still struggling with the strong habit of fighting back to back to her, Cullen knew perfectly well what his place was and that definitely wasn't in the vanguard. His robe was still pressed, barely ruffled or stained by the droplets of sweat caused by weariness.

With the same calm, the mage's hands were gentle as he gripped her arm, forgoing magic in favor of poultices and bandages. It was a testimony to the last days that Kate allowed it without jumping like an abandoned animal. She hadn't even noticed she had been injured. Light, of course, it was a light injury and he knew next to nothing when it came to healing magic. But he was also very able, she was beginning to learn, watching as his hands moved steadily, disinfecting the large slash on her right arm, covering it with bandages so the blood would dry and the wound begin to close. "It might not scar," he commented lightly, not even noticing her waning attention. "Maybe Surana can get a look at it when he's done with the Commander."

If she asked. Unlike the little cut Cullen was tending to, Sam was attempting to heal the Commander, stunt the large injury the man had sustained. No one seemed to worry though. Marry stood by his friend's side, shaking his head like an exasperated parent but he was the only one who bothered. All the rest were already moving, collecting items and money alike, all scattered by the creatures.

"I think we can take a break?" Cullen asked simply, scrubbing a persistent blot off her skin. From where she sat, it seemed obviously like blood. "They seem to have it covered. And you can tell me what's wrong, yes?"

There was too many wrong things but, at the same time, nothing at all. All the questions she had made in the past two weeks – why they were doing this and for what purpose, how they could follow these creatures, why her blood sang and why did they have freedom where so many others didn't – had been replied by the Commander. She would dwell on humans and her ability to be comfortable around them, the changes affecting her, the way she ate more than ever before but got tired easily after a fight, especially one with more weak enemies than a few strong ones. These weren't something he would be able to reply to.

"Your magic. You studied under someone?"

Safe subject accepted.

It was a fair question though. Sam was good at what he did but there was always a hint of desperation in his magic. Less control, more strength. He tired easily at times, he had difficulty in keeping it in on the worst moments. Where Sam was a blunt hammer, Cullen was like a scalpel. Every piece of magic was tightly held, controlled until she was sure he could turn fire into a knife and cut the skin off an apple without damaging the interior. Sam was thunderstorms; Cullen was stone, sharp and deadly.

"Oh. That." Safe for her, it seemed. Cullen's expression turned a little serious, like a student in a classroom;, a faint move of his jaw, brow furrowing into neat little lines. Kate felt like she had dipped her fingers into an open wound. So much that she opened her mouth to tell him to let go, to forget she had spoken to begin with. The mage was more light-hearted that she gave him credit for though. In the middle of the battleground, he sat right in front of her, tying the last strings around her arm.

"I told you when we met. I'm Circle educated."

That she remembered. Only he was outside and that didn't match. She opened her mouth to inquire over that but his eyes were already upwards, a little shrug moving his shoulders.

"It's not like it's that unusual," the mage continued, pushing the bandages uselessly. "Being sent to the Circle doesn't always imply automatic tranquility. Depends on which you get sent to and how the Knight-Commander works. And in Antiva's they prize more in educate mages extensively until more or less twenty. Good ones are trained further and kept to the royals' personal use, the rest. Well."

Kate didn't need a huge amount of clues to understand what he was getting at.

His steady voice continued without missing a beat. "It's a little like military education," he explained, head tilting to a side. "You get scouted for particular talents and trained exhaustively in them until you're sure you can cast them asleep. You get a proper cell and some minor comforts, Templars guard you at most moments and a day span of six in the morning till a little after the eleventh bell. You learn. But, if you're smart enough." And there his expression changed, like a kid proud of his own prank. "You'll cast something strong enough just when the Commander is passing by. In my case, only tempest I ever managed."

But there was something more there. In the fingers which tightened and let go on his own hands, the way he looked at Oghren instead of her, apparently vaguely interested in the shorter man's progression over the hurlock's belonging. Kate understood this sort of reluctance.

He patted her bandage, likely forgetting there was a wound underneath. "I take Surana never told you about the Circles?"

"He was never caught," she said simply.

"Ah. Well, that explains a lot. You two seem close."

They sounded like two gossiping neighbors, she noticed with no little amusement. Female ones, at that. This man lacked a bit of male pride, didn't he?

"Anyway, I was one of the lucky ones. I got transferred from Antiva to Kirkhold and then selected for the Wardens by the Commander. And here I am."

The topic was so serious and Cullen made it seem light-hearted. What an odd fellow. They fell back into silence, watching as Sam frowned, trying to get their Commander up and running, so to speak. The large gash ran deeply down his side and was still bloodied, still dripping crimson red towards the muddy path. It was like the injury itself was battling the mage.

"I'm from Denerim. From the Alienage."

She was the one who had spoken. She had volunteered information? Kate blinked in almost surprise, closing her traitorous lips before she said something else, something even stupider. But the damage was already done. Cullen was staring at her, a slight delighted smile that made any shade of bitterness fade like fog in the morning. He looked younger, like a boy with a favored toy.

"Oh, really?" He grasped, obviously happy with the new subject and ready to milk it for all it was worth. "I'm from the Free Marches."

Then Kate decided she could allow herself to stop thinking for a moment. She was tired, bloodied, covered in mud and all around her groans replaced the forest sounds. She could use some normal conversation, especially if it meant she didn't have to join Vaughan while he slashed away the darkspawn's armor. Making it useless, probably. Pushing her leg to her chest, she allowed her injured arm to rest on it, slow breaths as relaxation settled in.

"Kirkwall?"

"Maker no, I'd never make it here if I had been sent there. That's one city that takes Qunari influence seriously. I met this guy who..."

Cullen was the sort of person that merely needed an opening to run away with the subject. And run away he did, hands moving energetically as he described a city named Starkhaven, the great Tower right in the middle of city quite aptly soaring over the smaller buildings as some remnant of a lost age. Kate found herself leaning forward, elbows on her knees and chin against her hand, listening carefully as the mage described such a vivid picture that it was almost as if he was telling an actual story.

"And there are these creatures, dark, rather dangerously looking."

That had been random. Cullen had been telling her about artworks, hardly creatures. "They actually have those there? In the middle of a city?"

A slow bead of sweat began slowly making its decent on his skin. "No. It's actually right in front of us. And it looks…I'd say it looks hungry. Yes. Definitely"

Kate's head turned to the appointed direction so quickly that the pain it caused took a little to register. Enough for her to see a creature, maybe a horse's size, all of it black feathers, spikes and teeth; a little to the side, half hidden by the foliage but definitely moving in their direction. Strange. She had the very strange feeling everyone was out to get Wardens.

"Retreat! Maric, on the rear. Everyone else, move." Like one, they all turned except for the blond haired man and Ogrhen himself. The elf had a vague flash of the two men drawing the thing's attention for precious moments, enough for Cullen to pull her to her feet, for both to run towards the Commander and Sam, only to push both down the path.

"Move, Tabris." Cullen's hand gripped her wrist and tugged her with him.

She didn't shake it off as they ran towards Haven.

**xxxXXXxxx**

"Open the gates!" It wasn't a request and it wasn't made by any of the usual group. The three words came from the woman who accompanied them. It occurred to Kate that she had never heard the woman's voice in the time they had traveled together. It was wonder in itself how the woman screamed over the steady way how she kicked the metal door.

As Kate was mostly worried over getting in and away from the creature (now following Maric and Oghren with painstaking persistence), the fact didn't settle. Nor did the voices yelling over the rush of blood against her temples or the quickness with which the obstacle was removed and they were ushered inside.

"What in the Maker's name was that?" It was Cullen to voice the question but Kate was dead sure any of them was thinking the exact same thing. What was it? She looked frantically to where the door still resounded, trying to see if the monster had followed them even against the obstacle. There was nothing to see though. Either it had given up somewhere in the descent or the metal had proved too much of annoyance. The relief forced her to bow, hands searching for support on her knees because all she could was try to breathe, as heavily as possible for her starved lungs. Maker, maker, what was with dogs gaining the shape of a bear, spikes and _wings_?

And why was she feeling the sudden urge to laugh?

"Whatever that was," Oghren coughed, trying to clear his throat. He and Maric came right at the end, buried against the gates' surface like it was a lifeline. "I vote on not seeing that again. All in favor say yes."

"No. We have to kill it."

Their Commander had a death wish. There was no doubt he was also out of breath, his pale skin flushed and hair in disarray but there was that look in his face and Kate had already learned to recognize it. Every time he narrowed his eyes in that way, just barely, no expression to his face bar a stern certainty, a fight would come near. It wouldn't happen though, not before his ribs healed and that scratched out sound, like something obstructed his breathing, would ease.

"We can't let it outside the settlement," Loghain clarified, shaking away any help to keep standing, choosing instead to slide to the floor. One by one, his gaze searched for theirs. Kate couldn't speak for the others but it made her feel strangely guilty for searching safety instead of facing the creature. Apparently, a gift of the man.

"I get that we need to get to that before the thing offs someone but hell, we almost got our asses handed in a silver platter." Maric punched Loghain's closest arm before stumbling to the floor, snickering all the while. "What a moment to feel alive, eh?"

She could understand what he did. Whatever they had done to her, that poison she had pushed down her throat, it run up and down her veins, almost like liquid fire. Kate, strangely, felt she could continue running, run until that energy was spent and she felt normal. The elf barely noticed she had begun scratching at her skin again, trying to get rid of the odd feeling. Her hand fell to the side once she did.

"If you're feeling that happy," the Commander whispered out. "You can go ahead and help me get that thing away from here."

"As long I get my eyeful of pretty pointed haired women. Women, not brats like the sample here." Thumb right in her direction and still, Kate found herself disregarding the veiled insult. Maric was a pig, the least interested in her he was, the happier she would be. Hence why she raised her fingers and did a little wave, like a definite unspoken dismissal. "You're still injured so take your time. Little masochism showing through there."

Loghain didn't pay attention. He raised a hand, Oghren gripped it immediately. Two forceful movements and he was on his feet, wobbling lightly as he stood up, apparently soaking Sam's spells like a sponge.

"Andraste take you, Commander," a light voice interrupted. "Sit down and rest. It is done."

The woman – the brunette, no longer silent, long hair trailing behind her was passing by the gates. Kate hadn't even noticed she had left. And she didn't come alone. With her came a small group of people, two humans in the mist of elves, all of them armed. Bloodied weapons.

"I'm grateful, Loghain," she continued in a tone that was carefully polite. It didn't sound that grateful. "But this is our land. We can protect it perfectly by ourselves. Stop playing hero before you get yourself killed."

Loghain's face was a mask. Impassive, completely unreadable. Only Maric had moved to his side and then in front of him just slightly and his was always easy, always expressive. He was displeased. They had seen him when facing the Templars, amused and joking like there was no danger. But he was actually displeased and showing it. Again, the situation was too confusing. Kate supposed no one liked having their helping hand slapped back in their faces.

It showed she knew even less than she thought possible. The tension dissipated, Loghain nodding in acknowledgment to the other female, Maric going as far as placing his arm around her shoulders and being properly elbowed for daring to do so.

"Wardens." The woman didn't quite smile to the rest of them. But there was something, in that she stood in her muddy Warden uniform, the long fingers resting on her waist, long braid peeking over her shoulder; it spoke of dignity. It also spoke of a hint of pleasure, like a woman who has just played a prank well out of childhood. "Welcome to Haven. I am Fiona Guerrin."

Wait.

No, they couldn't have. They couldn't have hidden that from.

Kate opened her mouth only to close it without uttering a sound. They had just smuggled the Lady of Haven in the back of their truck. Someone who apparently was just as loved by her odd ideas about the ruling of a reservation (if one was to believe Oghren's comments) as their Commander with his impromptu conscriptions. Maker help them.

"Are you all insane?" Sam mouthed, apparently grasping the situation much better than she ever could. There was no way either of them would reach old age. Well before that event, Warden Secrets would definitely have them killed.

Outside, someone had set the wyvern on fire; the somewhat macabre flames lighting the way for any visitor.

That was how Kallian Tabris first entered a Reservation.

**xxxXXXxxx**

They were in Haven. The familiar trickle of fear ran up and down her spine but for a moment before being drowned by adrenaline. She had faced monsters. This was nothing. Less than nothing. Forcing herself to keep her head high, she passed by the guards, following the brown haired human as she lead them all, as if she owned the space herself. Haven couldn't be more different than Ostagar. While the Compound thrived in its originality, in the random mix of modern and past, Haven was simple and practical, grey surfaces all around. The buildings had been neatly built, straight streets framed by three story houses, no more. There were no trees among them, not even small plants on the stony paths, the impeccable stone-built streets which seemed like a white and black patchwork.

It wasn't Haven that surprised Kate. It was how many of the people in the streets were like her. Without thinking, the young woman took two steps, three away from the group, enough to be considered as walking by herself and then watched. Pointed ears and delicate features, simple clothes from those used to the fields, inked flesh, symbols drawn that she had never seen before in her life. This was her people, locked and jailed but her people. They didn't seem unhappy either, she concluded with some surprise. Resigned, more than not. She couldn't stop staring at everyone, her head wiping from place to place like she was a kid in a candy store.

Not even when she was pushed aside by busy people did Kate remember to complain. Instead, she returned their gazes with the ridiculous notion she was visiting unknown members of her family.

"Did you notice?" Out of nowhere came Sam, back straight and steps slowed until they matched her slow pace. She shook her head in silence, still reeling from the situation. Maker, her life with the Wardens was one thing after the other. "They look," he paused, as if unsure how to continue. A little tick over his eyebrow showed, brow furrowing in deep thought. "Like an ant farm."

What? Now she was the one confused. It didn't look that bad. Buildings were sturdy and were probably a good shelter against the cold weather of the south. The air was crisp and clean, sharp on her lungs but welcomed after their run, not a trace of the smoke and smog which covered her city. It looked pleasant. Better than pleasant, it looked downright livable. Much better than some of the places they had holed themselves up during the years.

Without knowing what to respond, Kate did the next best thing. She pinched his arm. Hard. "Sam."

"I'm serious, Kate, not hateful. This. Do you mind stopping that?" Her fingers stopped tightening his flesh. "No wonder they're all so happy to send us to this place. Everyone seems so satisfied. Like this is anything close to perfect." Sam had always been a small village man. He had never seen Denerim or its inhabitants. Maybe that was the problem with her. Even as she looked around, saw the peaceful expressions on most faces, Kate couldn't see the issue. They were just normal regular people. Sam snorted, a trace of derision she usually didn't hear in his tone. "I prefer to be on the run than being educated into this."

Ah. Right. She was being simplistic, Sam never was.

"It's not like we're staying. And it's not like we can change things. If they're satisfied with this," she shrugged, lacing her arm through his, barely managing to understand the oddity that that moment was. They were outside, with sun above their heads, passing through streets filled with people of their race – people who didn't even bat an eyelash as they passed – and none reached out to stop them. Not even due to Sam's staff. It was uncomfortable. It was odd. It was like she was dreaming.

"Don't think like that. Like it's not our problem."

If Kate hadn't spent the last years (Maker help her, she couldn't even put a number to those) living with Sam, she would have bought his obvious disapproval of the place as just that. The arm underneath hers, however, was tense. Just as his expression, just as the jaw, locked and unyielding.

"Why don't we address the real subject?" She suggested blandly. "You've been too worried lately. I haven't seen you relax one minute. Not even when alone."

Sam opened his mouth – probably to argue against that – before closing it in a huff, his robe ruffling comically as he tried to cross his arms and her own hold stopped him.

"The second I relax is the second you get yourself in trouble. Remember near Redcliffe?"

Kate remembered a fall, a broken leg and a curious man-child who had first watched just how his bones didn't quite fit against each other before he did anything about it.

"Dragon's Peak." She might have eaten poisonous mushrooms but he was the one freaking out with the storm. "I'm pretty sure I have more examples if I try though," Her head had found his arm, comfortably settling as they walked. It could be a peaceful stroll for all they knew. "Kate?"

"Hm?"

"He's watching us again."

The addition of again made wondering who he was talking about a useless task. Kate pushed herself closer to her friend and peered under the cover of his form. And there it was. Vaughan had made no secret that he disliked the two elves. In fact, he seemed to like none of the group, bantering with Cullen more often than not, greeting Maric with curt tones and discussing subjects with their Commander that they had no business to listen it. When in the group, Fiona had been calm and rather silent, Vaughan was simply apart. But sometimes, when they were distracted, he would do this; stare at the couple like they were about to challenge him, like they were a particularly hard knot he had to break apart.

"What do you think his issue is?" Sam asked, pushing her with him as they evaded the people littering what seemed to be a small market.

That was an easy question.

"The pointy ears?" She supplied. "Same as half of the Ferelden population."

The elf received a curt elbow to the ribs as reward.

"Be serious, Kate. He's dangerous."

It wasn't that she wanted to sound flippant about the whole thing but they couldn't keep watching the Wardens constantly. The Commander had promised them sanctuary within the group. So, at least there they could relax? For once? Quite frankly, she was getting used to being able to sleep a whole night without need for wards, just him under arm's reach and a warm fire nearby. Besides, Vaughan was more arrogant than dangerous and not even he would dare to challenge Loghain in a manner than involved more than talking. He couldn't be that stupid.

"They are all dangerous, Sam," Kate stated simply, trying to diffuse the situation before it evolved into an argument. Not when she was actually feeling peaceful. A little selfishness could be allowed at times. Right? "You've seen them kill a dragon. More of those things than I bothered to count. And that Ogre?"

She had a point. Even in his worried mood, the mage could see that. "And are you happy about this?"

"Happy?" Was she happy about it? The Wardens hadn't been the life she had dreamt of, not when at Denerim where most people wished a steady home, an adequate employment and good masters. She had no shackles and no freedom to run off the road either. So happy? The girl shrugged, the answer eluding her as much as it eluded him. "I don't think so. Pleased? Sort of. Glad we're not about to die? Definitely. And you?"

"Hungry."

Again, Sam evaded her question. That was a change she wasn't ready to enjoy. Kate pursed her lips, biting hard on the lower one before she did something stupid, like forcing him to reply. Which she could. Only Sam was looking down, frowning all over again to his feet like there were all the answers he would ever require. He was stressed, truly.

"I'm not giving you mine this time."

Relieved. He was relieved. Kate knew she was being selfish, wanting him to tell her everything as he usually did, wanting answers all over again because that was everything she ever wanted lately. It didn't stop her from wishing. Sam ignored her displeasure (probably on purpose), choosing to dip his head a little to press his lips on her forehead.

"He is still staring," he whispered against her skin.

"Sam. As long as he keeps himself just staring, we'll be fine. Besides, you're a mage. What can he do against that?" Kate pointedly ignored his look, a silent '_you're not'._ "I'm not going to wander around alone. I promise. Happy?"

"Not really. But it will do."

An old woman gave the pair an odd gaze as they jumped away from each other, hands linked as the female tugged and pulled towards the rest of the village. The Wardens could find their own way. It's not like they would expect them to flee, not after all that had happened.

"Then how about we explore this place?" Kate suggested, not quite grinning. "Maybe we find some of the others. I mean, they are supposed to be brought here, aren't they?"

The thought hadn't occurred to him yet, it seemed. So wrapped up in his own thoughts, he had yet to look around and remember that those people? He could know them. And Kate was suddenly grateful it had jumped up at her because Sam's eyes lit up, a smile that was gentle and true taking over his expression.

The wonders a little bit of hope could do to someone.

**xxxXXXxxx**

Kate had disappeared into Maker knew where. Even after he had warned her, even after he had told her to keep nearby. The Wardens seemed pleased enough to ignore his existence. While the first worried and frustrated him – like pretty much everything those days – the second left him indifferent. To be alone was a luxury. To be left by himself in the closest thing to a city Sam had ever been; that was a rarity the mage was sure not to experience before years had passed.

He didn't like Haven but he couldn't deny it had defied his expectations. In his mind, he would find Towers and armed Templars at every corner, metal bars and tortured people. Instead he had grey streets and armed humans. But also elves and that was the surprise. He had never expected a human ruled prison to allow their captives to do rounds or carry guns. Then again, no rumor of the Wardens could have prepared him for what he faced.

He didn't like, Sam acknowledged silently, brown eyes lost in the dark alleys and the slowly slumbering streets, but it wasn't the worst he could have thought of. Then again, he had always been good at painting the worst case scenario; never mind the optimistic words he would direct at his companion while on the run.

"It isn't that bad."

The voice kicked him out of his own thoughts, a voice that wasn't familiar but it was known. Sam looked behind him, half struggling to reach for his staff, only to find Fiona. The brunette had already changed from the uniform which, apparently, had been borrowed to her. Dressed in a fine burgundy dress, floor length and cut simply, she looked every inch the human ruler she was supposed to be.

It wasn't a good association.

"Haven," she continued, thankfully not coming closer. Her hands were carefully tightened in front of her, one over the other. "It is rude and it is simplistic but people live here. They like this place. It is a haven for them, pun not intended."

She was wrong. This was no haven. This was a prison in a bright red ribbon.

"I can see the barbed wire just fine, lady." Sam raised an arm, a finger pointing well above him and to the side where the walls stood. "From where I stand, it's the same thing. Just a different package."

Her friendly countenance froze as if he had insulted her directly. One step behind a glare, the elf could swear on it.

"Let's make a mental exercise, shall we?" Fiona waved to the place around them – her gestures were no longer gentle or lady-like – to the dark buildings carelessly lightened by the one or two candles placed on the windows. No luxury of electrical light, of course, he thought oddly snide. "You know the current condition of your people. You know it better than I. Now think, what happens to them."

His first reaction was anger. Which was funny considering that would have been Kate's, anger and perhaps the closest thing to an attack she would dare. Ah. He peered more carefully at the woman's expression, reading the hard lines, the narrowed eyes. That was why she had spoken to him and not Kate. After all, they had spent the better part of three weeks in close quarters. She had been able to gauge personalities, at least. And his was more prone to thinking first, then punching.

And so he thought. Of course Sam knew better about the persecution than this woman. His village and his escape. Mages on the run, the small group they had formed, Kate, Kate being found right out of Recliffe, scratches all over and acting as skittish as a child in the dark. And like her, Maria, Solan, Thristan, so many that the man could barely remember all their faces. Just names. An incredibly long list.

"I mean no offense, Surana." She tried again, this time even mildly; coming closer, a hand on his upper arm that was warm and felt like poison. He pushed his own arm away. "But if that metal wasn't there, if those walls didn't exist, what do you think it would happen? Do you think they would waste any time to destroy anything your people build here? Do you believe anyone would be allowed to live here in peace?"

No. He didn't fidget, he didn't move anymore. Fiona read in it what she wished. "I see you understand." The woman dared a small smile before leaving his personal space. "Give it a chance. Perhaps the wardens aren't for you. It is good to have choices, options. You should think about it."

Options? What options? Even if he wanted to, he was a mage. Mages were automatically sent to the Towers, everyone knew that. Was she suggesting she would risk her own neck to keep one of his under her protection? And that was humor bubbling in his stomach, bitter amusement because this woman sounded idealist, like a teenager first having to fend by itself.

"You're wrong."

Her dress stopped ruffling, her body halted painfully quick as his voice broke the silence and stopped her from leaving.

"What?"

And Andraste take him if her voice didn't sound as confused as her eyes, closed just the slightest fraction, staring unwaveringly at him as if he was about to attack her. When Sam spoke, his voice didn't shake.

"You're prettying up your ideals and calling it salvation. But truth is, things wouldn't be like this if you all assumed humans and elves are the _same._ So you're just placing a Band-Aid, not changing the situation." The mage nodded, barely enough to be considered polite, before turning his back. "You think about that, lady."

Sam wasn't impulsive, he thought first. And what she had said was probably right in a short-time basis but she couldn't see past it. To what would happen once she was pushed aside and her protection disappeared. He did, sadly enough.

Fiona should have spoken with Kate, after all.

His frustration webbed away and he found himself smiling a little, his steps gaining strength as he walked back to where the Wardens would be. Maybe all he needed was to let go of those thoughts, infecting and festering like a badly healed wound, one that even kept him from confiding in Kate when she was itching to make all sorts of questions and requests for opinions. That was unfair, even more to him that dumping his bad humor on the human. Which was too, said that prickling of guilt somewhere underneath.

Instead of his friend, it was Maric who welcomed him. His uniform had also been ditched, his greatsword placed away and his hair was already mussed, likely by no action of his own. That was what the man's smile screamed to everyone who would bother to listen.

"Finally found you, man." Definitely a good mood. "We're not supposed to just sit around and relax, you know? Places to go, people to see, spawn to kill, Loghain wants us to go listen to his boring, very very boring description of all that bull. Where's Tabris?"

His smile started to dim.

"I don't know. Left about an hour ago."

Just an hour. That wasn't enough to get into trouble. It wasn't.

"Huh." Maric rubbed his chin absently, almost speculatively, before shrugging the whole subject away. "Ah, well. We can find her later. Really? What's the worst that could happen?"

**xxxXXXxxx**

His fingers tightened around her neck, crushing her windpipe with strength she wouldn't have supposed him to have. She couldn't. _Think_. Kate clawed at his hands desperately, tried prying him away but Maker, she couldn't breathe. Couldn't. Maker. Vaughan tightened his hold, bringing his eyes too close. If she could breathe, she would have been able to smell him, to feel like throwing up.

How had this happened? She couldn't even recall. There had been a small meal, then she had dispersed, trying to find others to speak to. And then, then night had fallen and she had been trying to find her way back. That was it, wasn't it? From then to this situation, with cold fingers on her skin and a hard wall against her back, Kate couldn't make the connection. And why was she even thinking about it anyway? Freeing herself, that was the priority.

"Let go," Kate mouthed repeatedly, uselessly. There were tears in her eyes and she cursed her stupidity. She should have stayed with Sam. She should have stayed with Amell. Even with Ogrhen, he wouldn't harm her.

"Look at me."

Bright spots right at the corner of her eyes and she couldn't keep anything in her memory bar struggle and kicking and the sheer inability to understand what was going on.

"Look at me," Vaughan snapped again, the hand pinning her neck moving to bash her against the wall. In her desperate haze, the pain didn't register as it should have but her eyes opened – when had she closed them anyway? Light blue eyes, wrinkles and smudged skin, an impassive expression like he was doing little more than having a chat. One mole above his left eyebrow. Information settled in and fled out in the same second. "Why?"

Damn his armor. Damnit. Kate tried pushing him away again, kick whatever uncovered place she could find. Only there was nothing to find and she couldn't breathe. Her eyes snapped shut again and her consciousness began to wane.

"Why do I hate you?" He questioned, almost curiously. His fingers tightened even more. "I really don't get it."

If the elf had been able to breathe, she would have laughed.

**xxxXXXxxx**

* * *

><p><em>AN - I swear, it had been ages since something gave me this much trouble to be written. And I know some parts seem off, I'm very aware of it. Unfortunately, I've read this so many times (consider it's been over a month) that I can't even identify the worst in the middle of this. I'll do my best on the next. Let's just say it wasn't just the characters to be frustrated in this. Finally, please review. This is the one story I am most worried over and I would really like if the lurkers just pipped in with something.<br>_

_Again, thank you for the reviews, guys: Josie Lange, Shakespira, Roxfox1962, Enaid Aderyn, ChampionTheWonderSnail, Ventisquear and Judy. For putting up with a weird AU universe :)_


	8. All Paths Lead to Rome

**xxxXXXxxx**

**con·ver·gen·cy.** the coming together of two or more things to the same point; _to connect something  
><em>

**xxxXXXxxx**

No. Just no. Vaughan had come closer, so close. Had she had more air, she would have noticed it sooner, soon enough to have stopped this from degenerating. By instinct, the elf stopped tearing at his fingers and aimed at his face, fingers tightening and nails digging on his skin. The effect wasn't complete, he was still holding onto her but it gave her enough to swallow a mouthful of air, desperation and relief mixing in a split second.

"Maker's breath, you fuck—"

Whatever he muttered, whatever he cursed, Kate didn't hear. Little could be heard over the persistent ringing in her own ears, sickening in its loudness. The elf kept struggling but no consciousness was needed to know she would die if he didn't let go. Every inch of skin whispered that, the flow of blood in her ears screamed it over the shrill sound. Maker, it seemed too ridiculous. To die because of what a human always took for granted and right after she had thought to finally be safe. So ironic, so wrong. It wasn't fair.

That last thought was interrupted abruptly. Kate was able to grasp something of a crack, like glass cracking underneath a booted foot, before the pressure against her throat vanished into nothing. There was no time to make conclusions about it either. A second after, she crumbled against the floor; boneless, confused and hurting. But if she was hurting and thinking, her mind whispered urgently, then there was a high probability of her being alive and breathing. _Inhale, expire, inhale_; giant mouthfuls as the elf tested her lungs quickly, almost desperately. An unfamiliar ache persisted in her throat whenever blessed air passed by, filling her chest, expanding, before repeating the process all over again. Kate never noticed the shadow by her side or the hand resting on her back until actual physical contact was made.

"Men will be men," said a, curiously enough, male voice. "And humans will always be human. Perhaps this would be a good moment to attempt to breathe more slowly."

Her body shifted to avoid the contact, managing only to crawl slightly to the side as her legs failed to obey her properly. There was the chance whoever this was could harm her, that was true. But she couldn't stop it before her eyes opened, before she could breathe right again. It didn't sound like Vaughan. That was a plus.

When Kate opened her eyes, the man had moved from her side, shifted until he was right in front of her; one knee on the ground, a steady hand by its side. And to his right was Vaughan. Unconscious. She blinked slowly, turning from her… savior, she supposed, to the felled man; unconscious, pathetic against the stone floor. And more than that, his hair. She leaned a little forward, trying to focus with the faint light from the street lamp. His hair, it was red instead of the usual brown. A dark red, liquid, sluggishly dripping onto the ground right by his side. She hadn't done that.

"I would say a brink to the head is much less than he deserves but we must make do with whatever tools we have, wouldn't you agree?" The newly arrived man – _elf, actually_ – smiled, all tooth and mischief. He had the softest looking blonde hair, barely whispering against his leather-covered shoulder whenever he moved, eyes gleaming cat-like in the early darkness; playful and taunting, she would dare to say. Little more features could be discerned.

The girl closed her mouth when she realized she was gaping.

"And while I wouldn't mind to continue exchanging gazes—you do have lovely eyes if I might say so myself—I don't think we should linger. We have, after all, assaulted a human. Yes, yes, I know, self-defense. When does that matter? And I think..." Kate remained quiet – which apparently wasn't a major obstacle for the continuation of the conversation, Maker, the man spoke as easily as she breathed – watching as he turned his head to one side, listening carefully for something. A bell sounded sharply in the night air. Then two more times in the same of a heartbeat each. Vaughan groaned. "Yes. Three. Time to go."

He didn't merely have cat-like features, he moved as one too. In but a moment, the blond haired man was by her side, gripping her arm and pulling her upwards, holding tightly when she wobbled on her feet. "Can you walk by yourself?" he asked.

She straightened, testing her weight carefully. Yes. There would be some bruises, some bumps where she had been pushed against the wall. And there was that nagging pain on the back of her head where it had hit the bricks but it shouldn't be serious.

"I think so." Her voice sounded estranged to her own ears. Swallowing tightly, Kate licked her lips, releasing herself from his hold a little too fast. "Yes. I'm okay. Can you…"

Her own words resounded in her mind as she shook once more, gripping for the wall nearby, searching for support and reassurance. She was okay. This had just been a small attack, darkspawn were so much more dangerous. _I'm okay, I'm okay, I'm just fine, I really am_ and the mantra ran on and kept going as her breathing returned to normal.

"Good." The elf reached for her hand, again, smoothness of movements she could barely describe and tugged her with him. Her feet, however, had other ideas. Both locked against the floor and her free hand scratched the wall uselessly. No. She had just been attacked; the fact that this man had pointed ears and, apparently, had helped her couldn't mean he wasn't dangerous or on her side. She couldn't be sure.

"I need to reach the Wardens. Wherever they are." Her indecision probably showed in her face because what she could see of the man's face smoothed, became kinder, his smile losing that edge that spoke of inappropriate jokes and abrupt moves without explanation.

"You're harmed," he said, touching his neck where her own ached. "Let's get that looked at. Oh stop wondering if I'm going to drag you to a dark alley. He did that already and myself, well, I do like to be original. We go, you get checked, you go. Simple."

It felt familiar, this situation. It was how they usually met others on the run. An attack, some kind of trust formed when someone came at them with a weapon. Kate hesitated again, just a little, her fingers rapping on the stone wall she was supporting herself on before leaning in. He had chiseled features, she noticed, mocking, youthful and sincere all at the same time.

"Please?" the man added. It sounded pathetic on him, like a little boy asking for a treat.

Kate lowered her head in an affirmative nod, instinctively. It was all he needed. Her head had barely straightened and the man was already pulling her along, carefully making sure both of them stepped on Vaughan in some way or another before leaving. Kate had no shame in pressing especially hard on the man's arm as they took off running, weaving through the dark streets like children. He jumped from shadow to shadow like someone born to do it, someone who had been raised on those paths. He ran without worries, like it was a game, barely remembering he was dragging someone with him, someone who had just been nearly killed, thank you very much.

The man did, however, stop at every corner, carefully dipping his blond head to see beyond, twisting and turning whenever he found the path to be inadequate. Kate didn't notice. All she could see was his back, carefully enfolded in dark leather, the arm that guided her, muscles moving and rippling with each movement when he turned sharply.

"Look." There was a small sound from the man, so small she almost missed it in her mindless run. It was a snicker. Kate was pushed in front, cornering one of the grey houses only to see a large wooden door. By its side slept a human, obviously uncomfortable due to the late hour. Her guide walked nearer, dragging her with him, and waved a gloved hand in front of the closed eyes. He tutted lightly, tongue clicking in disapproval. "Second time. Good guards aren't made right anymore."

But he did nothing about it. Her hand was finally released, leaving her to cross her arms over her chest. The man didn't bother to notice. His hand closed into a knuckle, knocking against the door in a careful manner. Two quick beats, three, one, a pause. Kate tried to memorize it but it was a purposely fast rhythm, meant to be used by those who needed it and forgotten by those who didn't.

The male elf entered first and she followed cautiously, trying to see everything at the same time. There was little to discern, however. The thick wood door gave entrance to a gloomy hallway, poorly decorated, or so it seemed in the dim light. There was a door to the immediate right, closed with its key hanging precariously on the lock. Three steps ahead, the first piece of furniture, a course wooden table containing little more than a jar of flowers. As Kate passed though, she noticed something else. Various pictures – painted, not photographed as preferred by the higher classes – smiling expressions on solemn features.

"There we go." Her guide opened the door at the very end of the hallway, entering completely and moving quickly to light up a vast array of candles. Kate stopped, hesitating at the very entrance of the room as if expecting something to happen. Something unexpected, it wouldn't be the first time that day. Nor the second or third, now that she thought about it. "You can sit down, I will get someone to look you over. He never sleeps properly anyway."

The man hummed as he moved, the same natural grace she had seen while on the streets showing clearly even in the homely setting. And there was something so painfully familiar about the brick walls, the way the candlelight would lighten just the barest space around, the soft humming which hinted at words long unheard. It reminded her a little of home, of her father in the kitchen – and her throat constricted a little thinking of it – how her parents would move in what was their space as she watched. And it seemed even more nostalgic when he turned and the light hit those carved features, the trace of a tattoo painted on skin ever so close to his eye. Eyes which were light, blue as a summer sky.

Something slid down her cheek. Fluid? How inopportune.

Her mouth opened and whispered a name, coming closer without seeing how her feet were moving as all hesitation faded into nothing, fingers reaching out to trail the side of his face. Just as his eyes opened wider in surprise, confused even before recognition dawned in him. And there it was; the reason why his grin seemed familiar, why she wasn't thoroughly scared out of her own skin even after following this man who she thought to be unknown and possibly dangerous.

"Kallian?" The elf muttered, ever present smile already tugging his lips. It sounded as an address to an apparition.

"Zevran."

**xxxXXXxxx**

"So you see. I just had to bring her here. It was nearly an obligation."

There had been no time for the knowledge to sink in. Zevran had winked before pushing her into a small couch, patting her cheek lightly like she was the kid he had known, and vanished to Maker knew where. From then to now, Kate could wager she had spent a little over five minutes alone, trying to put some order in the maelstrom of thoughts which had overtaken her mind. Not a lot of time to focus or put anything into perspective. Just some to try and stifle her grin to something that seemed more of a sober smile and push her tears back before she made more of an utter fool of herself.

But it was Zevran, her mind repeated over and over. Logic had told her that it was possible to find one of the many people met on the run but it had been an odd sort of hope. The kind stashed away at a corner, to be touched rarely; cautiously because too much hope could be one's undoing. It was bright and conscious right in front of her now, even as she focused her gaze on her closed knuckles, tightly closed on her knees.

The man Zevran had brought upon return was taller than both of them, older by far, she would say. His head was carefully shaved until no shadow marred the pale skin, his eyes so light and serene that they were almost painful to gaze into. But the most amazing thing to her wasn't those details. It was the tattoos, drawn beautifully on his aged features, weaving through the skin like they belonged to it. Kate couldn't look away from them, barely noticing how her smile persisted in going nowhere.

He commanded respect the moment he had crossed through the threshold and her body had reacted automatically, straightening like a soldier ready for inspection. Then childish wonder had taken over.

"You need to stop bringing trouble upon yourself, Zevran." He had a deep voice, assured; a little like the Commander even though both men seemed as different from each other as night from day. Good thing Kate was sitting too. When the older elf looked at her, she felt like a little girl facing the school master for the very first time. He bowed a little, fingers reaching for her face, pulling it upwards so he could touch her neck. His eyes were still difficult to face but she found staring at that spot of skin just beneath was easier. "What is your name, Da'len?"

Was she supposed to answer? Answer what? Her confusion probably showed since Zevran's head appeared somewhere in her line of sight, barely above the other's shoulder. The man was having way too much fun in leaving her in the dark. If she wasn't happy – ridiculously so – she would have kicked him that moment. Taking her track record with authorities into consideration – including her attempt to threaten the Commander at some point – she would likely miss and hit the healer.

"She just arrived, Keeper."

Zevran said so to her, enunciating the words like they explained everything; the reason for her reticence to speak and the one that, in his point of view, would change her mind.

"I see." Calm, slow, evaluating all over again. "I am Zathrian, current Keeper of this Reservation." His fingers barely touched her cheek, splayed out, tips on her skin while his eyes searched for hers; light, sharp and stronger than many people she had met in her life. It didn't become any less unnerving. If anything, the skin underneath his fingers twitched and tried to recoil. "Then tell, Da'len. What is yours?"

Kate swallowed, wincing as her throat complained about the movement. Even her voice was lower than usual. It was hard, didn't they understand that? Elves didn't share their names, especially among humans, as that was often all they had. They shared with other elves – the ones who knew their struggle and their beliefs, the ones who would use her name as something precious instead of using it as a brand in some notebook. But the girl had spent enough time on the run for even that act of trust to be complicated. The simple act of giving her name, trusting someone she had never seen in her life had turned into a struggle. Still, he had told her his, he had trusted her that much. It was a matter of giving what one received.

"Kate." But she still couldn't do it properly. The girl shuffled a little in her place, trying to stop the recurring wish to push away – one common to every sick patient in front of a particularly serious doctor. "Kate Tabris."

"Hm. Tabris." A non-committable sound if she had ever heard one, not a comment about her half-truth. "I think we have some here. Do we, Zevran?"

Zevran didn't reply, busy moving all over the room but Zathrian didn't expect one. Words to fill up silence, that was all they were. He was much more interested in her neck, long fingers prodding gently at the pained skin. Kate found herself watching the drawings on his skin all over again, dark brown against the paler tone, vines weaving through his traces delicately. It was beautiful and indeed distracting.

It made it easier to ignore the first signs of magic but there it was. Her eyes widened and shifted below, following his arm to where it connected to her skin; light burrowing through it, sweeping through her blood with eerie smoothness. The conclusion was too shocking – too dangerous – to be spoken outloud. Zathrian, Keeper or not, was a mage.

The man didn't react visibly; eyes meeting hers with no worry, only calm and an unspoken certainty of her silence. A corner of his mouth twitched. It wasn't a smile; it wasn't even a sign of amusement. It was as if he could read her mind and knew exactly what she was thinking. It wasn't anything wrong either, Kate continued, a hand rubbing the no longer pained skin. A mage in a Reservation. He had to be oddly good at hiding himself.

Kate swallowed the little voice before it could blurt out 'you're a mage!' to someone who was helping her. He surely didn't need her help to realize that.

"You're good to go," the man evaluated, resting his large hand on her hair. It was heavy, comforting; she could see the small spots in his skin which told of age, the wrinkles here and there. "We have a couch upstairs, feel free to use it for the rest of the night."

"I can't stay." Kate shook her head lightly – an unspoken request to be released – before rising from the chair she had occupied, patting away any dust off her uniform that either wall or ground had left behind. It was a wonder in itself that Sam hadn't already crossed the street calling her name or spelled his position so she would be able to find him. She moved around, trying to identify the way out when someone caught her arm, tugged and pushed her right into her original position.

"No?" Zevran leaned in front of her. He was smiling again; when they were kids that had usually meant mischief. "But we can exchange stories, perhaps braid each other's hair and in the morning?" Cue little dramatic pause. "I'll make pancakes."

Kate bit down any urge to snicker, swaying a little on her feet while worried hands moved behind her back. "Sam's here," she informed quickly. "And he doesn't know where I am. I need to get back before he notices and begins to worry."

If his smile was dangerous before, it became downright terrifying, glinting like gold in the half darkness. She had forgotten, of course she had. Zevran and Sam were opposites, different as night and day itself. Only where Sam would rather avoid the other elf like the plague, this one had always had a different approach.

"Aw, little Sammy's here. Still attached at your heels? My, now I just have accompany you back."

Attach himself. Bother. Chatter. Follow him around because, it seemed Zevran didn't understand how one just couldn't like his personality. Kate could think without effort of the several times the blond elf had pestered the other merely because it amused him.

"Don't hit on him."

How useless to try and stop it. Zevran's answer was a low chuckle, brief but very honest.

"Now where would be the fun in that?"

They were no longer children, that was obvious. But the way Zevran touched her shoulder; same grin, same way to act, similar person. She felt like burrowing against him like then, huddled all together in a pile because that was the best way to keep warm. Momentarily, she forgot what would happen once the blond elf found the mage. And to have such an event observed by the Commander, Sam would either harm him or face no one for weeks to no end.

"Go upstairs," the younger elf advised, shutting further protests down with a firm raised hand. "I am serious, Kate. Get some rest. I'll go get Sam. Who knows?" That ridiculous smile again, the one that made her think of rotten eggs hidden in inappropriate places. Or a dagger slipped in from shadows. "He might just have missed me enough for…"

"For?"

"For something you are neither old nor experienced enough to watch, never mind participate." Zevran pushed her in the direction of a door, barely hidden by a pair of old curtains, caring little how she delayed her steps in order to watch her surroundings. He would have done the same in her shoes, more than likely. "Don't act like the jealous sister, looks bad on you."

"Zevran, please be silent for a moment. You will have time for that later on." Both quarreling elves shut up immediately, staring at the Keeper with the strange sensation of being unruly children. There was something about the older man, that was all. It commanded respect even from her who had lacked an older figure to respect for a long time. His hand rested on her shoulder briefly as he passed. "You have been attacked, Da'len. It might have not settled then but it will."

It hadn't been the first time it happened, she almost said, it was okay, it was really fine. Zathrian had a manner that calmed people though, that kept them silent while he spoke. She felt that as the intensity of his gaze fell on her, heavily lidded eyes, serious like a blade against skin. Kate closed her mouth, hands tightening in front of her all over again. The older elf made a small sound – possibly of exasperation – before leaving.

"Guide her upstairs, Zevran," his voice instructed. "Then we will find her companions."

All thoughts of disobeying faded into nothing as Zevran took her side, held her arm without permission and pushed her upstairs. Kate had time to see a small room, stains in wallpaper made into veritable blotches in the light filtered by the curtains, before her body found a bed underneath. An honest to Maker bed. She needed only a pillow beneath her head to rest.

"He's a mage," she whispered to the cat-like eyes, ever so close to her own. The bed underneath her, the worn covers, the lack of artificial light, the old blanket he was now pulling over her—it felt odd because it was too familiar. If she closed her eyes a little, it could really be her father over her. But the safety didn't keep the thousand little questions running through her mind.

"And a Keeper," her companion confirmed. "And a grouch. But he grows on you. I believe it's a mage thing."

"But aren't we in…?" His hand found her mouth in the darkness and covered it, silencing all the comments which would eventually follow. How he was there, why, wasn't it dangerous for he and them, he wasn't a Warden and... Maker, she thought too much.

Zevran chuckled somewhere in the darkness. "Sleep, Kallian. You'll get your answers in the morning."

She obeyed. After that, Kate remembered nothing, not even the male elf's soft goodnight.

**xxxXXXxxx**

Sam hadn't run outside even after one hour had passed since Kate's disappearing act. It wasn't so much about his self-control as it was because of Maric's comments, randomly reminding him that they were in a Reservation and Fiona would more likely shoot a human than she would allow them to harm an elf. It was little more than nonsense and everything in the mage wished to disregard it immediately. But when it wasn't Maric, it was Loghain's eyes, staring him down every time they rose from the weapon he had been cleaning. As he couldn't leave without drawing everyone's attention, Sam used the time to rationalize the matter. His exchange with Fiona, for example, led him to believe she was, in theory, more adept of fairness than useless cruelty. Forcing himself to trust in that notion, he sat by a corner, looking out the window, never noticing how his fingers were crisped strongly around his staff or the agitation which filled up the small house.

It had been supplied by the Lady herself. As simple as every other inside the village, sparsely furnished but warm and comfortable. It even contained small luxuries such as warm water for their use and a few very precious electric lamps. Other than that, it was nondescript. There were no decorations to make it a home; no pictures, no paintings, and no flowers. Just an empty frame of a house, filled with machines and no actual life. Their presence had changed that, if only temporarily.

Oghren and Cullen, he had learned, tended to spend their time in some form of companionship. Maybe it was self-defense since Loghain and Maric had their own way of shutting others out but it was near constant. Sitting front to front, playing cards were exchanged with the seriousness of a battle, sometimes interrupted with a chuckle or a complaint about cheating. Sam frowned, feeling Kate's absence more acutely. He was used to her, to her presence even when in silence. Fade, he couldn't even remember a time they had slept less than five meters from each other. Last time, when had it been? When she had been caught in… was it Amaranthine? Or was that only where he had found her days after?

It certainly hadn't been by his own choice.

A sigh escaped his lips before his resolve was formed. Enough waiting. He abandoned his vigil, reaching for the staff unconsciously, feeling the magic sparkle underneath his fingers in momentary happiness. His body reacted easily to the newfound ability to show off his magic at any moment he wished, like the time he had pushed it down and constricted it was suddenly a bad dream. Sam went nowhere without the outward symbol of his status, danger or not. A coat was placed over his uniform and he was less than a meter from the wooden door which led outside when he was interrupted.

"Where are you going?" Maric had mastered the ability to show up exactly when and where he wasn't necessary.

Sam stopped, a hand resting on the doorknob, eyes on what he supposed to be his superior officer. Superior officer. What an odd notion, he thought carelessly, staring at the blonde man. He was no soldier and his notion over chains of command was limited to follow whoever knew the best way out. He wasn't ready to obey this man – especially this man, more often than not so unrealistically driven by his own wishes at a given moment.

His frown was back in full force.

On the other hand, Maric was smiling. Granted, it didn't seem at all amused. If anything, it seemed judging. Expecting to run now that he had the resources and opportunity to do so? Fools, he wouldn't leave Kate behind. Though not a completely stupid idea, he would have to admit; the possibility of escape was still in the back of his mind as a last resort.

"Every time each of us steps outside," the human continued, uncaring of Sam's visible distraction. "We end getting lost. For such a practical person, Fiona doesn't know how to design a city to save her life. She has circular streets getting into more circular streets, how practical is that?"

Was he joking? Maric spoke energetically, with his hands even. He seemed honest, an honest fool. Sam opened his mouth to state these words before deciding against it. Alright, the man had managed to use an excuse to stop him which was so irrational that he had no answer to give him.

"Ka—" No. Not her name. Maker, he was distracted tonight. Sam rubbed his eyes tiredly, swallowing the sigh hiding behind his lips. "I can find my way. Tabris hasn't shown up yet and she is the one who might be lost. I prefer to search instead of wait."

"Hm." For such a non-committable sound, it sounded incredibly loaded with meaning. The human's eyes lowered to his, a little curious. "You two really rely on each other, don't you?"

Defensiveness came to the surface, instinctive as breathing. "Why are you asking?"

Maric raised both hands in a conciliatory gesture, his grin sedated. If Sam didn't know better, he'd say it was a forced one.

"No reason. I just noticed." Right. No meaning whatsoever behind his words. Did this man take him for an idiot? "You two are never more than ten feet away from each other," the blond man continued. "When you fight and she tries to take the lead, you are two steps behind. You sleep next to each other, back to back. I'm presuming you're not married otherwise you'd sleep actually together. By your reaction, it's a no."

Sam had winced visibly, the sheer idea bringing something very akin to disgust to the surface. Kate was his sister or as good as. Anything else could only be thought of by someone who spent seventy per cent of his time chasing skirts. Of course, the idea of being watched by Maric wasn't as pleasant.

"Come on, I'll go with you." The gigantic greatsword was tugged out from its place behind the door, straps carefully tightened over the man's shoulder before Sam could tell him company wasn't needed or wished. "Loghain! I'm going out! Don't miss me!"

"I won't," the Commander commented back, not bothering to look towards his friend in favor of a rapidly growing amount of paperwork. The gun he had been cleaning rested by his side on a table, ready to be used at any given moment. "Don't spawn. And if you get drunk again, don't get arrested."

Damnit. Now he wouldn't be able to get out of it. Sam breathed deeply, trying not to let any annoyance show. It was fine. It was better to have someone watching his back, even if it wasn't the person he actually trusted to do that. With that in mind, he focused on the door, reaching for the knob again as Maric complained loudly over some thing or another, likely to do with the Commander's vague insinuations. Who knew?

He would have waited for a mere minute – no more – for the man to get moving. It wasn't needed. Sam was about to open the door when the knob underneath his fingers twisted. On its own. Without thinking, Sam turned to the door, releasing the object like it was suddenly scalding him. His eyes followed the movement of the silvery globe as the lock clicked, the bolt loosened and, finally, the door opened into the darkness. Then they met lighter ones, blinking slowly in makeshift confusion.

An elf. Taller than him, bald, Sam would guess at least, fifteen, twenty years older, dressed simply in a shirt and dark brown slacks. His left hand rested on the now open door, the other on the doorframe, a foot almost crossing over. Apparently, he hadn't expected to be confronted so quickly and without warning.

"I was told the Grey Wardens were housed here?" he asked carefully, looking at him up and down and, apparently, not finding him much.

"I'm a Warden." Said out loud it sounded doubly as odd.

"I see." Again, up and down, a judging look, almost skeptical. Sam wasn't a prideful man, not in a normal situation. His light annoyance, probably born from human prodding, Kate's absence and now this man's intervention, had to be smothered beneath an empty smile and an urge to leave as fast as possible. "I have a word to be said to your leader, if you would?"

He didn't wait for permission. Without a single added word, the man passed by him, by Maric who said nothing, swift and silent, dignity rushing off him in waves. Sam wondered if he should be bothered by the man's attitude but decided there was little reason to. If anyone should be offended, it would be the Commander. And that one wasn't inclined to show it. There was a glimmer of recognition in the man's eyes as he turned from the paperwork, placing the sheets he had been scribbling on down and standing, arm outstretched for a greeting.

"Commander Loghain."

"Zathrian."

Hands shook as civility – hardly warmth – settled in.

Sam's curiosity picked up, his mind temporarily forgetting about his chosen task. Who was this man anyway? From Loghain's look, someone to be taken into consideration. Also from his gaze, Sam would wager it wasn't someone the human trusted even though there was respect somewhere in his expression. The mage pulled a little back, ready to pay; maybe hear whatever this visit brought with him. But that was when… "Surana." Warm breath slipped across his ear accompanying an arm, all too comfortable around his waist. It startled him out of his reverie like a snake on his skin would. "Missed me?"

His eyes widened, body rejecting contact so quickly that he was already turning, staff held as a barrier between him and whoever it was before the action registered. Blond hair, longer, a tattooed face for a reason the man had never explained, eyes which were, at the same time, dangerous and amused. The name came unbidden to his lips, brimming with disbelief. "Arainai?" The blond man smiled again, lacking anything Sam would call actual amusement. If a lion could smile, it'd smile like Arainai. The mage's hand tightened around his staff so hard that the knuckles strained, white due to effort. "What are you doing here?"

"Your welcome leaves much to be desired, Surana." Arainai had a way to move, to look at you and make you feel self-conscious. Sam didn't like it. "Tabris' was much more acceptable." But with those words, he had all his attention.

"Where is she?" He asked quickly, forcing his tension out of his muscles by pure strength of will. "Why isn't she with you?"

"Better question is why isn't she with you." It was a recrimination and the mage didn't like it. Later. Later he would feel free to dislike the elf for this. First, information. But Arainai wouldn't lose his time bantering if Kate wasn't fine. That was obvious. Not even he could be this callous. Right? Maker damnit. "Breathe, Surana," he added when he received no reactions. "She is fine. Just went through the usual. Betrayal, darkness, a bit of physical violence."

_What?_ Sam's heart stopped for a moment before restarting, thundering in his chest as if out of control. "What?"

"Boss will explain. You should pay attention."

"You just said she was _attacked_ and you want me to—"

"Be calm and wait. That was always your thing." Zevran wasn't playing around anymore. His expression was locked, serious. Completely focused on whoever he called boss when all Sam wanted to do was shake him and demand replies. It wasn't needed. On the opposite side of the room, the older elf had, apparently, relayed the exact same information to the Commander. And he hadn't liked it any more than himself. Loghain had stood from his chair, paperwork forgotten behind him, a look in his eyes that Sam hadn't seen yet. Not outside of battle. Dangerous, a metaphoric knife, as cold and deadly as the real deal.

A tool, that was what he had called them according to Kate. Of course. A human wouldn't want its tools broken using that property.

"Very nearly killed," the elf confirmed serenely. "You owe Arainai your gratitude for not losing your Warden."

"And my control the fact that he didn't lose a second," Zevran completed.

Loghain looked at the blond elf, noticing his presence finally, disregarding the way he still kept by Sam, his arm uncomfortably close to his. The rogue gave them a delicate shrug, as if it was obvious. "I can connect the dots as well as anyone else. Same uniforms. It was one of your own that tried killing her. And don't come tell me it wasn't an assassination attempt." His teeth shone as he smiled. "I know a lot about that."

"Ah fuck. I told you, damnit. I told you that idiot was going to let himself do something stupid."

Words blurted out of Maric's lips as usual. Unlike usual though, he was speaking them in a harsher tone, directed at his friend and not the newcomers.

"Shut up, Maric," replied the Commander, visibly avoiding the other's gaze.

"Loghain."

"I'm serious. We can discuss it later." Sam could see his jaw locked, expression so impassive that it told exactly of how much anger was right underneath as he turned towards Zevran. "You. What did you do to Vaughan?"

To Vaughan? Who cared about him? Sam sure didn't. No one should. He had tried killing Kate, Maker damnit. If it was up to him, he would… Zevran's hand clasped on his arm. Oh. His hand. The mage lowered his eyes to it momentarily, watching as the light which had been moving around his skin subsided. It had begun shining, a sure tell of magic right at his fingertips – literally – leaving his control without permission.

"Head wound,"

Everyone had taken a step back from Loghain. The Commander had started pacing, slowly, heavy steps as his thoughts wandered. Whatever he had in mind though, Sam could see it wasn't pleasant. His brow was furrowed now, hands opening and closing continuously as if to relieve tension.

"Cullen." The name was called out softly, no nonsense. It made the mage stand at attention as if it had been barked.

"Sir?"

"Retrieve him and take him to the infirmary."

The human mage didn't move. Instead, he seemed almost confused.

"Wouldn't it be better if I brought him he—"

"_Infirmary_," Loghain repeated, a hiss through barely open lips. "Make sure every elf there knows exactly what happened. Stay with him till it's done and don't interfere unless he raises a hand against anyone."

It was useless to argue. Cullen nodded, retreating to search, presumably, for his staff. The rest of them waited while Loghain stared at each in turn, lingering a little on Sam in unspoken evaluation before moving onto Zathrian. His mouth opened, words formed and…

For the first moment, Sam had no idea what was going on. There was light, filtering through the window. But it wasn't daytime yet, the night was still young and hours would pass until sunlight rushed in. His mind grabbed all these assorted details without truly making sense of them. Then there was the noise, the loud explosion which rocked the floor underneath his feet, the air which suddenly pushed the windows inside, mingling with broken glass. Someone screamed 'get down', the very same someone who pulled on his arm, taking out of the way of the crashing windows.

Sam tasted blood on his lips as his face smashed against the floor. He spit out quickly, trying to see in the newly arrived darkness.

"Was that an explosion?"

It was a stupid question but Sam wasn't inclined to point it out to Oghren. Outside the window, there was the orange glow of fire and shouts were beginning to replace the night's former silence. Maker help him, Sam found himself praying, Maker help them all.

"Everyone outside! Now!

The Commander's voice rose above the agitation and everything else – Kate, Vaughan, attacks and retribution – faded into the background as he obeyed.

**xxxXXXxxx**

* * *

><p><em>AN - Four months to write a chapter. I swear, this will be over when I'm over sixty. Thank you for the patience and hopefully no one has given up on this just yet. Hopefully? Crossing fingers on this side. I just ask that, while I adore every single word said (feel free to drop them :D), just don't review continuously telling me to update. If I'm not, it's because I'm busy with work or just lacking inspiration. I can't do better at the moment.<br>_

_Huge thank you to Josie Lange who bashed this into shape with the mighty beta-hammer.  
><em>

_And, as always, a big big thank you for the reviews, guys: Josie Lange, Shakespira, Roxfox1962, Enaid Aderyn, ChampionTheWonderSnail and Judy. I'm hoping the next chapter doesn't take other four months..._


	9. Burn Down the House

**xxxXXXxxx**

**im-pro-vise**. to compose and perform or deliver without previous preparation; _to arrange extemporaneously_

**xxxXXXxxx**

_She was running. There was a lane and stones moved uninterruptedly underneath her feet, making her stumble. A sword. She held one in her right hand, something which didn't seem strange at all. Even though it was red, deep blood red and stained instead of the clean silver it should be. It felt comfortable, necessary, like a part of her body and the very breath easing into her lungs. There weren't just stones making her stumble either. She could swear the last one had been a human form, bloodied and lifeless against the floor. She could swear she had been the one to make it that way and that was fine too. It was necessary and she always did what was necessary. Ah. Where was the end of the road? She kept running, left hand motioning to something (someone?) behind her, pushing others from her path as she kept advancing._

_And then, just in front, a shadow filled her line of vision. She was scared, yes. The shadow was taller than her, frightening. Fear was there but barely making a dent on the fresh wave of satisfaction which had no explanation. The shadow doubled, tripled, countless ones barring her path. But when the shadows roared in menace, she knew herself to be smiling._

Kate woke to the sound of an explosion. Perhaps waking wasn't the right word to use. Her body moved on its own, jumping into a sited position, swaying as her mind refused to acknowledge whatever was going on. The wall made itself known as she swayed a little too much against it. That had been the true wake-up call. Cursing under her breath, the elf opened her eyes wide and tried to see whatever was around her. The same darkness which had watched her fall asleep greeted her eyes, the same blotchy wallpaper tinged in tones of orange and frayed wooden floor covered with a carpet of a similar color. Moving to the edge of the bed, she put both feet on the floor and straightened, dragging herself upwards and vaguely in the direction of the window.

The window was dirty, hard to see through. In her half-awake state it took Kate several moments to understand it wasn't dirt but smoke barring her vision. She blinked and rubbed her eyes strongly. The room got clearer, the outside world didn't. Kate repeated the action against the glass, cleaning a portion of the window as if it would be enough to clear the air. With focus, small things began being noticed. Just outside laid a line of houses, in everything similar to the one she occupied. And just beyond them, higher than any of them was an orange flare, so large and strong that Kate didn't need to see it properly to understand what was happening. Fire. Moving, dancing over the edge, sometimes in one place, sometimes ten meters, twenty behind. The acrid scent of smoke filled the air even though the window remained closed and intact.

_Help. I should help._

The thought gained strength and forced her into action. Turning around quickly, Kate ran out of the room, jumping down the stairs carelessly while her mind moved a mile a minute. The doors which barred her way were unlocked, easy to bypass except the last which required a bit of a struggle to push back. Fresh air met her skin for a moment before it was masked with the suffocating warmth of smoke and dust. The street directly in front of her was crossed quickly by groups of two to three people, some carrying buckets of water, others of sand, all of them with some form of light or another. Also, all strangely organized, their voices loud and clear, steps resounding on the stone floors like a military march.

"Girl, what are you doing just standing there?"

They pushed, dragged each other into moving. If she hadn't noticed by herself, the hand which clamped on her shoulder and tugged did the trick. She saw briefly blue eyes on a weathered face before a man ran ahead of her, pushing all the while. "Grab this." A sand filled bucket was passed from his hands and he struggled after the young couple who preceded him. "Keep away from the fighters, girl," he continued, rushing her along the path. "Put out of the fires but don't get in the way. Sand to cut the fire into one place, let the water carriers do the rest. If the fire's too close, you run, don't let yourself be caught. Got it?"

She nodded before remembering he would likely not see it.

They ran together for what seemed little more than a moment, his steps sure and steady on the uneven ground. The streets they crossed became wider, less filled with houses until all she could discern seemed more like warehouses, cement barely covered by cheap metal. Like the rest of the compound, it was surrounded by a tall cement wall, crowned with barbed wire for all its extension. On one end, this wall had been destroyed. Flames invaded the breach, licking the grass carelessly and eating their way in.

"Stop gawking and start moving." There was anxiety in the man's voice and that, more than anything else, forced her into action. Kate couldn't remember ever having done something like that – her base instinct when facing a fire such as this would be to run in the opposite direction – but she watched as he started dumping the sand on the grass and mimicked his motions. As soon as she dumped one, a person would take it from her hands and get another right by her feet. A small line had formed; no orders, just pure organization.

If the girl hadn't been busy – frightened even – she would have inquired over the event. As it was, the only thing to do was to react and keep working. The heat wafting through the air was uncomfortable, the ash filling everywhere she moved into was even more so, a suffocating pressure which made her cough every minute or so. But she kept going because everyone else around her did so. They worked methodically and, eventually, the group had managed to circumvent the breach in the wall, a wide fifty meter wide circle over which the water carriers were running from side to side, trying to cull the flames before they bypassed the fragile border.

"That wasn't half as bad."

Her sort of companion stopped behind her. Turning her head just a little to the side, Kate saw a hand rising as if it was going to touch her shoulder and then drop quickly as he thought better about it.

"Are you alright?" He asked.

The bucket fell by her feet before she rubbed her eyes to clean the ash away. The hot air hadn't faded yet. In fact, it seemed to grow worse as the path inside the compound was cut and it was forced to eat the vegetation outside. No injuries though. Best thing to happen that night.

"Good enough." Lie. Was anyone going to explain what in the world was going on? "Is this a habit?" Kate asked instead, frowning at the half-ruined wall.

"As much as the bandit raids. I don't suppose they like us being here."

"Does anyone?"

"The people from the cities? Orlesians? Tevinter?" There was a wry tone to his voice that almost made it seem like a joke. The little lines marring his skin sure make it seem like it. He laughed often, maybe? He seemed like someone who might be able to. His eyes crinkled at the corners in little lines which made her think it was a common occurrence. "Anyone who doesn't have to actually look at us."

Wasn't that right? Kate turned to the man, feeling comfortable enough to keep the conversation going. She had the time to notice the dark eyes and the greying hair just before the pause in the commotion ended abruptly. A shrill scream ripped through the air, shattering whatever calm they had managed to construct.

"Look out! One's crossing over!"

And the light-hearted conversation – if one could call it that – fell into nothing.

"Get back!"

"Where are!"

Half-sentences were shouted into the night, breaking the systematized murmuring. The former organized lines of elves broke like water would break apart an anthill. Kate was pushed back by the blue eyed man, her mind making no sense of the screams and shouts which rose through the air like sirens. It took the actual danger for the words' of the man to slip into her mind. He had said it. Get away from the fighters. Problem was that she saw no fighter but she definitely saw what they were supposed to be fighting.

"Where are the fighters?" He yelled out loud, looking frantically to the path they had crossed earlier. "Get some here now!"

An animal had followed the path of the fire, entering through the breach which had been carved into the outer wall. At first sight, Kate would say it was a wolf. But last time she had checked, wolves weren't more than half her size or seemed like a plague had eaten away part of their skin and fur. Pieces of decomposed flesh hid behind patches of darkened fur, blood slipping from wide injuries across its flank. One of the largest crossed its deformed snout all the way to an icy blue eye, both orbs watching the figures backing away as slowly as possible. It seemed to be measuring all of them with the assurance of a predator which knows the battle has been won before it started.

And worse, that sting underneath her skin which spoke of the taint seemed to be going haywire.

"Stop staring, let's go." The man had yet to let her go but she couldn't pay attention. Instinct said flee, the man repeated with his gestures but all she could see was the few petrified elves which refused to listen to either. What were they waiting for? Despite being sick – Kate had no correct words to describe the thing's current condition – it was still a wild animal. Those attacked.

Turning into a Warden was shaping up to be the worse and unluckiest thing that had happened to her. And in that, she was including every event which had driven her away from Denerim.

"Maker help me," she muttered, perhaps a little louder than necessary. "This is your fault, Commander. Somehow."

It felt nice to have a solid figure to place her blame onto.

The elf pushed her arm away from her current companion's hold and let instinct take over. There was no real weapon around but plenty of make-shift ones. She ran towards the small group, ripping a shovel out of a woman's hand. A harsh kick to the shaft gifted her with a somewhat spiky end and what could, for the lack of better term, be faintly confused with a spear.

"Get back," she ordered to the man before turning towards whatever the thing was.

It had been Sam to teach her how to kill something similar, larger beasts which dwarf her body and strength – and she said similar because this was as a close to a wolf as a kitten to a tiger. Rolling onto the ground, she escaped the first attack, spear tightly held in her left hand. Her back complained but the stone floor was even enough. Bruises could be dealt with later on. Kate rose a little on her tiptoes, waiting in a crouched position for the creature to notice she wasn't already in its way. Another swipe of its paws made her jump to the side and the following was evaded just as quickly. The creature snarled, trying to bite the moving elf but one thing Kate knew better than to stop. It was easily thrice her height and Maker knew how heavy. The lithe spear she carried wouldn't make dent. Unless the thing was forced to do something it was still trying to avoid.

Kate hoped it wasn't injured and avoiding it on purpose. Otherwise there would be a need for something far stronger than what she was carrying. Nothing was more dangerous than a wounded animal.

The massive head was lowered to the ground, dangerous eyes looking at her carefully as the long tail sliced through the air, back and forth. It was measuring her, Kate realized, watching to see whether she would jump again or maybe where. Intelligent little bugger. She pointed the spear to its snout, prodding it quickly, trying to get the creature angered. It had to be injured, that was the only reason it made sense for it to refuse to jump. The uneven wood at the tip ripped an eye from up to down, the sound drowned by the pure roar of pain the thing gave her. There was no warning afterwards. It turned, compensated the loss of one eye with speed no human or elf would ever achieve, hind legs bent and then sprung. Kate was already moving, instinctively now that her opening was handed on a silver platter. The butt of the wooden shaft was pushed against the ground and the tip in the direction of the jumping wolf. The momentum did what her strength wouldn't be enough to. The elf felt the wood rip through skin, barely avoiding a rib before imbibing itself in whatever found in its path.

The creature fell to the side. Kate didn't lose a second. Jumping to the side, she stuck one foot against the creature's neck and held onto her weapon with both hands. Bloodily, messily and clumsily, she pushed _down_, rummaging around for a vital organ which would halt the messy movements. The way she moved was distinctively analytical, the same way she would use when skinning an animal in the middle of the forest or mending a piece of broken clothing. It was necessary. And what was necessary was imprinted into her actions more than in her mind.

When the animal stopped twitching underneath her – paws still vainly trying to reach her now that she had stopped moving – she allowed the weapon to slip through her fingers. Splinters were imbibed in her gloveless hands, barely noticeable underneath her pleasure. Novice she might be when fighting darkspawn but this – survival – at this, she was good at. Not the best but good enough. The floor underneath her feet was steady, her actions were assured, she _knew _what she was doing. No feeling was better than that.

Turning her back on the felled animal, Kate patted her hands on her uniform and focused on controlling her breathing. Seriously, what was with being a Warden that made sure everything confused, complicated and unexpected happened in each possible moment? It was even worse than on the run, when the greatest danger was to avoid humans and wild creatures. Kate made a small mental note to restart sleeping with her weapon. It seemed necessary.

The man was staring at her as if he hadn't seen her properly until then. "How did you…?

When a liberal amount of blunt trauma was applied, anything would eventually die. Especially if one knew to approach downwind and in something which was pretty close to silence. When that notion couldn't be used, then using the being's own strength against it would be the best option, especially when the opponent was far bigger than a small female elf.

It occurred to her that most people would find that reply slightly unsettling so instead of speaking, she smiled in what she hoped to be a reassuring way, despite the blood that was likely covering her in dark patches. It likely didn't work.

"Another!"

By the love of the Maker. What was with that place?

Kate turned in her place, halfway ready to search for yet another weapon she could use when the sound of fire was swallowed by a slow rumble. Magic filled the air as a thunderstorm materialized around them. Little traces of light filled the field, crossed to the stone wall, ripping the creatures which seemed ready to enter. The scent of burning bodies touched her nose, making the last food she had eaten move and struggle to leave her body.

Safe? Was she safe?

The man hadn't left her side. In fact, he had come closer to rest a hand on her shoulder. His fingers tightened.

"Tabris!"

_Sam_. Sam's voice. And it was also his hand around her arm, pulling her back and into his arms and well away from the other man.

"What happened here?" It hadn't been his magic, the one Kate could recognize with closed eyes and at death's door. This magic lacked the desperation, the barely contained power Sam exuded. This storm felt like a lid had been carefully opened and not like the whole box had been turned over. "We just heard the explosion. Are you alright? Let me see your neck. Arainai told me you were hurt."

His hands reached for her skin, searching uselessly, patting her neck, ghosting over her cheeks.

"Stop fussing, mother."

Sam didn't even hesitate. But he did glare. Oh, how he did. A fleeting look back to where the voice had come from. Kate found she had an incredible urge to laugh out loud at the fleeting glare, so familiar and so serious.

"Screw you, Airanai. No one asked you anything."

"I most definitely would." The rogue's hand caught a curl of her hair and tugged. "Are we done getting yourself into even more trouble? I'm half expecting you to start running at walls now that you have nothing else to kill off."

It felt so familiar that it hurt. The urge grew until she was ready to tug them both close and laugh until her throat ached and Maker, when had she felt like that before? Her hand fisted around a piece of Sam's tunic as she pulled back.

Shame about the Commander right behind. Grey eyes moved to the leader of the Reservation who waited right behind him and Kate could swear they spelled threats with their eyes as every second passed.

"I want to know," he said slowly. "No more stalling, no more lies. What's going on here?"

Fiona's jaw set and her fists closed but she nodded in a silent invitation for them to follow.

As she followed the rest of the group, Kate looked back at her recent companion and waved, a half-smile on her face. The man didn't mirror it. He merely stared at her until the Wardens disappeared behind the first houses.

**xxxXXXxxx**

"Speaking of lies of omission to me, Loghain?"

The conversation had gone nowhere ever since they had returned to the cabin. According to Fiona, the attacks, the fire, the demons entering through the breached walls, that was nothing the Wardens should be concerned about. The Commander, on the other hand, was annoyed enough to actually show it for once. Apparently, fighting for his life in a situation he expected to be safe was upsetting for all parties involved. But if he was displeased, that was nothing when compared to his lieutenant.

"I nearly got hit by two explosions and eaten. That sure supersedes any of your 'you did it as well' speeches."

"Maric."

"You were thinking it." Kate hadn't seen Maric truly angry until that moment. The blond man felt like a dam about to break, fingers so tense on his crossed arms that it felt like they would snap at any moment. "Enough, Fiona. We brought you here hidden with the rest of us and you know we're already in deep shit with the Crown. You've been telling us nothing about whatever's going on. And then we get here, we get five minutes by a fire without being attacked and then it's suddenly all the Fade exploding on us! What's this all about?"

Loghain didn't interrupt. The whole scene had turned from a scene of a greater danger to something that seemed personal.

Maric had walked close to the woman, talking directly into her no longer impassive face. Standing as she was, Kate could see the traces of despair in her frown, how her hands constantly twisted and turned in front of her dress. His had found their way into her shoulders, half keeping her still, half shaking her in despair.

The elf couldn't make sure that was an attempt to manipulate Maric or she was truly upset. Either way, it seemed to work. The blond man was wavering, his teeth grinding against each other so strongly that Kate could swear to be able to hear them.

"Makerdamnit, Fiona. What are you up to? Tell me."

More than personal, Kate realized. Even with her very ridiculous amount of social interaction, she could see that Maric really and truly cared for this woman in his offensive and abnormal manner. And he was easy to like and hard to lie to; rude and blunt but so very much direct in his words. If they were alone, Fiona might have told him immediately. As they weren't, and Maker knew Kate would have liked to make herself very small at a corner, she remained quiet and hesitant between his hands.

"Maric," the Commander tried once more.

The blond man didn't reply. All his attention was on the Lady of the Reservation, so very serious, so very earnest and concerned. Kate watched as Fiona opened her lips to speak without appearing to notice she was doing so. "I stepped out of line when I was in the Capital."

"How much step out of line?"

"Enough that they are going to keep attacking until I either get out of here or the Reservation kicks me out." Now that was a good joke if Kate had ever heard one. How in the world could she expect her prisoners to rise up against her? Heavens, they would be reduced to nothing even if they did manage for the sheer gall in trying and that… would be an actually very good way to get rid of both a pesky problem and another Reservation. "It was necessary, Maric. You know I wouldn't do anything to place myself in danger otherwise."

"And how much of that necessary was provoked by the Crown in order to make you do what's necessary?" Maric stepped back and passed a hand strongly by his face in an almost violent movement. If it was anyone else, he would have had insulted them, Kate was sure of it. But as it was Fiona and the story written between those lines was long and confusing, he kept those quiet and paced under the cautious eyes of Loghain.

This felt like something neither her nor Sam should know about. Whatever was happening here, she realized, was a power play, a game between people with far more importance than either of them. For the very first time, Kate felt her place in this chessboard. She was a tool, a tool which might be good at it sometime in the future, but a tool nevertheless. And, as she watched Fiona hesitate and fear, Maric simmer with that anger without explanation, she thought she was fine with that situation for the time being.

"Fine," the Commander interrupted. "I get it. You used us as a cover to get here because you feared they were going to murder you on the way. Or capture you." Or _worse_. "I was counting on you to be able to hold this place until the Blight was over. I can't afford a shift in power before the dragon is done with, Fiona."

The woman's eyes narrowed, her hands stopped fidgeting. It was like a switch was suddenly flipped or a wound pressed. "I can hold this place."

"You're being attacked every fucking day," Maric snapped. "That sounds like you have a mighty hard task going on."

"The buildings are still here, aren't they?" Fiona continued without losing a beat. "The people are still alive. We can handle it. We have enough power to keep is holding for a while." Her eyes turned from the blond to the Commander and her previous hesitation disappeared like it had never existed to begin with. "I can do it until you're done, Loghain. After, I will find a way out of this mess but until the God's finished, I can do it."

The small group which, until that moment, hadn't bothered to intervene in the scene, waited on what seemed the edge of their seats for the reply. Kate watched Zevran tilt his head to the side in contemplation, how Zathrian's fingers tapped lightly against his leg in a rhythm without beginning or end, how Sam's eyes were narrowed just as Cullen's were. In that moment, they were one and they were the people, watching as their rules decided their future.

Loghain's eyes didn't deviate from Fiona. It was like the others didn't exist.

"I'm going to take care of it," he eventually stated, releasing the wall that had been his support for the whole discussion. "You're staying here and holding out the fort as much time as possible. If they come, if you're caught, you're dropping my name and you know _how_." Kate fidgeted in her place. She had an idea of how she was to drop the Commander's name and it involved tainted goblets and a future on the roads. Fiona's distaste for the idea was obvious in her worried features. "We're leaving tomorrow morning. Everyone, get ready."

"Where are we going?" Kate heard herself ask in the sudden silence.

"Somewhere where I can fix this," Loghain replied, saying, in her humble opinion, nothing at all. "After we drop off Vaughan for someone who won't try to kill my Wardens when their backs are turned. It's bad enough that we have the Crown gunning for us."

Sam's hand tugged on her uniform to draw her eyes to him. In his face, she read the same thing she was thinking. This whole thing was incomprehensible, far more complicated than the two of them could glimpse. And he didn't like it. He didn't like it at all.

At least Vaughan would be gone, Kate thought as she followed everyone outside. It wasn't like she hadn't had all those people wanting her dead before. The only difference was that now, there was actually a group invested in keeping her breathing. That was an improvement, wasn't it?

"We can still run if it gets too complicated," Sam whispered.

There was that too.

**xxxXXXxxx**

The girl wasn't tall, she would never be. He would wager she would be one, maybe two or three inches taller than his own wife; barely below him. Black hair was cut roughly into uneven ringlets – chopped as if a dagger had been used – and pushed back with a bandana. The few strands which escaped framed a tanned oval face, recovering from what seemed lack of proper food of and several spots of freckles underneath her eyes. Brown eyes which were a touch too dark, a touch too young in comparison to those around him. A body which showed the leanness of elves forced into physical effort often. He tried to memorize each detail, how the uniform was especially dark and seemed tailored for her – not borrowed – the economy of movements as she received the dagger from a red-haired elf and the fumbling when it came to receive the larger sword and gun.

"What are you staring at?"

What could he say?

"Nothing." What _could _he say bar that? They eluded each other, they all lied and hid; not all were trustworthy. It was a sad state of affairs when humans drove them to hesitate trusting their own kind. And it was harder for him, one who had been kicked of his own house due to one wrong whisper in the wrong ear. It didn't matter in that moment though. The man allowed himself a large smile as she waved and walked away, noticing how much younger she looked when chastised and the faint hovering of the young elf by her. That spelled safety.

His companion gave him a weird look. "Yeah. Right. Whatever, Cyrion. Let's just get the fire out of control before we have houses to build. More, anyway. And why are you grinning?"

Because he had just seen his daughter and she was safe.

"No reason."

Safe. Strong. Grown. Beautiful.

Cyrion Tabris met the rest of the group with the widest smile any had seen on him since arriving to the Reservation.

**xxxXXXxxx**

* * *

><p><em>Author's note: What can I say when I notice I haven't written in a story that I actually like for almost two years? Yes, it sounds ridiculous. But truth was that I started reading Reparation all over again, seeing what I liked and hated about it and how much I still wanted to do with it. I can't promise I will manage and yet, I feel sad over leaving it so undone. I want to continue. Let's just see if RL and my pesky annoying little muse cooperate. <em>

_A very belated thank you to my readers who are likely on long lost stops: Josie, Shakespira, Champ, Enaid, Vent, Judy and Nymra. Thank you for the support and do forgive me for the lame attempt at action. I will get better. Eventually._

_Finally, thank you to Seika for the wonderful cover-art. The full version can be found on her page at deviantart: seika -h. deviantart art/ Kate-Nallos-Justice-458389721_


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